Sly Cooper: On Equal Ground
by LonePhantom756
Summary: An alternate ending to Sly 3. What if things had happened differently after Dr M's defeat? What if Sly, instead of faking amnesia, had the chance to express his true feelings for Carmelita? Epilogue: The long awaited conclusion to a Thief x Cop love story.
1. Chapter 1: The Moment of Truth

Author's Note: Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves, the events concerned, and the characters are all copyright of Sony Computer Entertainment America Inc., Sucker Punch Productions 2005-2006, and any other groups/people who deserve the credit. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction.

This story details my own take on the game's ending—while I've made some changes to what happens, those who haven't beaten Sly 3 might want to steer clear if they don't want a spoiler.

For those of you who've beaten the game, and would have liked things to turn out just a _little_ differently, enjoy!

**Sly Cooper: On Equal Ground**

**A SlyxCarmelita fanfic by LonePhantom**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Moment of Truth**

"Not her!"

With those words, Sly Cooper was moving, racing across the expanse of floor that separated him from Carmelita Fox. He knew what it was probably going to cost him to do this, but he didn't care. All that mattered was preventing Dr. M, the insane baboon genius who had once been his father's partner, from taking out his frustration at losing the battle with him on Carmelita. Already, the simian madman was working the controls for the freakishly large spider-esque device plugged into his head with astonishing speed for one who had taken so many blows by this point, aiming the triple muzzles of its gun barrels at the lovely Spanish vixen with the light of fanatical revenge blazing in his eyes. Sly saw that Carmelita was already bringing her Shock Pistol to bear, but a sickening suspicion in the pit of the master thief's gut told him that she wouldn't be able to dodge in time. In that single instant, he knew instinctively what he had to do.

It would probably mean his life. But he didn't care. There was simply too much that he had realized about Carmelita only a few hours beforehand—and too much had happened between them over the years—for him to do anything less. Sly didn't even bother to look at Dr. M as the baboon's fingers tightened around the firing mechanism of his multi-legged war machine—all of his focus was on Carmelita as he ran towards her, ignoring the inner voice in the back of his head that screamed that this was a bad idea.

Despite her focus on their mutual enemy, Carmelita's was able to spare a glance towards him as he closed the distance between them, those lovely amber-brown eyes widening with surprise. "What the—!"

Sly didn't give her time to finish, only dimly aware of the distinctive crack of an energy weapon being fired as he all but collided with the hot-blooded Interpol detective, shoving her out of harm's way. Even as momentum carried him forward into the space that Carmelita had occupied, Sly felt a wild surge of adrenaline-fueled satisfaction.

_I did it—!_

In the next instant, a brilliant red flash exploded in the corner of his eyes, and a powerful force slammed into his side. It was like getting hit with an electrified wrecking ball—agonizing fire shot through the master thief's nerve endings, and the impact carried enough force to blast him clear off his feet, his cane flying from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. Through the white-hot agony of his pain, Sly was vaguely aware of the air whipping through his fur as he sailed through the air, vaguely aware that the wordless cry of pain that reached his hears was coming from his own mouth, and vaguely aware of the hard metal grating of one of the perimeter walkways near the ceiling of the Cooper Vault's Inner Sanctum as it rushed up to meet him. Geez, had he _really_ been thrown _that_ high—?

Then came a sickening crash that knocked the wind right out of Sly, his cry of pain ending in an agonized whoosh as he hit the metal walkway with enough force to have the air forced out of his lungs/make it vibrate from the impact. For a few moments, the raccoon lay sprawled out in an ungainly heap on the walkway, trying to make sense of the world as something else other than pain. His torso felt bruised and battered in a variety of places, the pungent odor of burnt cloth and fur assaulted his nostrils from where the energy bolt had struck him, accompanied by a searing pain that made Sly wince in agony, his lungs felt as though they had been hit with a sledgehammer, and he could feel the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

Wounded and gasping for breath, Sly tried to push himself into a sitting position, but it was all he could manage just to incline his head forward. The rest of his body simply refused to obey—his limbs felt as if they were filled with molasses, and the world lurched violently before his eyes, slowly disappearing as a dark haze began to fill his vision.

As his remaining hold on consciousness began to slip away, and he found himself begin to lose touch with his environment, Sly found himself recalling a certain Latin vixen detective for the second time that evening—not just things like her hot-blooded personality and how cute she looked when she was angry, but all the times he had flirted with her, the times when they'd found themselves working together against a common threat, and how many chances he'd had to leave a lasting impression with her and take their relationship to a new level, only to mess with her emotions somehow—the incident at the Krak-Karov Volcano and their little tango in India came to mind here—and thus keep a notable rift between them in spite of everything else that took place.

For the second time that night, Sly felt a powerful surge of regret. _If only I'd realized just much she meant to me sooner…_

Then his grasp on consciousness failed completely, and he fell into darkness.

**------------------------**

Carmelita could only watch in shock as Dr. M's blast hurled Sly skyward to smash into the catwalk. One minute, that crazy baboon had been wheeling around in her direction, spouting something about making Sly suffer as he started to aim the weapons of that bizarre contraption on his head at her. In the next moment, Sly was there, shoving her out of the way and taking a blast that had been meant for her—and paying the price for it. Was he alive? Dead? Carmelita couldn't tell from this distance. The only thing she knew for certain was that Sly had _known_ what it was probably going to cost him when he acted. He _had_ to have known.

But he had gone through with it anyway.

Unbidden, all the memories of her past interactions with the most elusive criminal that she'd ever chased raced through her mind. However, the times that he had managed to give her the slip, numerous as they were, weren't the focus of these memories. Instead, Carmelita found herself recalling all the times that Sly had done something or shown a side of himself to her that had made him seem more than just another thief. There was that time in Russia, three years ago, when he had risked his life to rescue her from Clockwerk's gas chamber—and the little scene that had played out after they had defeated the mechanical bird. While Carmelita was still holding a bit of a grudge for the way Sly had tricked her, she still had to admit—if only to herself—that the kiss hadn't been entirely un-enjoyable.

And then, two years later, when she had been investigating the Klaaw gang, Sly had done several things that contrasted sharply with his criminal status—he had rescued her from the Contessa's sinister clutches (something that Carmelita hadn't learned until later). He had helped her avoid the police after she had been framed by Neyla. He had teamed up with her to stop the treacherous tigress after she merged with the Clockwerk Frame to become Clock-La. Afterwards, he surrendered himself into her custody—not just for the sake of his badly-injured friends, but so that there would be no question about her loyalty to Interpol. And that conversation that they had had during the helicopter flight—in that relatively short time, in which the two of them had shared words freely, Carmelita had found herself smiling—even laughing—along with him as they reflected on the past, and shared personal details about themselves…something that she couldn't have imagined herself doing with him a year before. Even when he managed to escape her yet again, she hadn't been completely angry.

And then there were the events that had occurred only recently. While, for the most part, it had been the usual game of Cops n' Robbers, there had been the way Sly had probably saved her life back in Australia—while she only remembered the incident if it were a dream, according to what her hired mercenaries had told her afterwards, she had been possessed by some kind of evil voodoo mask, and it had been Sly who had broken the thing's hold on her…and, as annoying as the photos he had left for her on her own camera were, they were proof that he had kept watch over her while she was unconscious.

He could have done anything during that time—she had been completely helpless, at his mercy. And yet, his only desire had been to keep her safe. As much as Carmelita tried to focus on the fact that he had eluded her again, she couldn't help but admit that there was something…touching…about Sly's kindness to her. It was one more addition to the list of things that Sly had done that set him apart from all the other criminals that Carmelita had pursued during her career.

And, of course, there was the confrontation with Dr. M's pet monstrosity—when Carmelita had seen the most elusive criminal she had ever chased being crushed in the claws of that 50-something-foot-tall genetic nightmare, she had feared for his life—although she hadn't given it much thought at the time, her concern had been far too great to be caused just by her desire to capture Sly. There had been something else there—something far more potent. Something that had made her risk her life, and the lives of her hired mercenaries, to save his. Something that Carmelita hadn't been able to identify in the heat of the moment.

Hadn't been able to…or had been reluctant to.

It all lead up to the present, and what had just happened to Sly. The way she saw it, justice was black and white—right and wrong, with no middle ground. However, no matter how much she tried, deep down, Carmelita knew that she just couldn't fit Sly into that mold. He'd done too many things, now and over the years, for that to be the case.

And now this thief, who had done all of these things for her despite her attempts to bring him in, was sprawled out on a catwalk, grievously injured—if he was lucky—because he had wanted to keep her safe. His words as he had jumped to push her away made that much all too/crystal clear.

Because he had been sincerely worried about her.

**------------------------**

All of this went through Carmelita's mind in a matter of seconds. In the next instant, the Inspector was brought back to reality by the sight of Dr. M as he cackled maniacally, exulting in what he probably saw as a victory over Sly Cooper. Turning her full attention back on that crazed scientist who had sicced his pet monster on her only an hour or so ago, the Inspector leveled her Shock Pistol at him, her grip on the Shock Pistol tightening until her knuckles turned white beneath her gloves. The large handgun's red-and-yellow chrome finish gleamed dangerously in what little light there was in the cavernous vault as Carmelita fixed a bead on Dr. M's forehead.

"_No one hurts **my** criminal ! _"

**To Be Continued…**


	2. Chapter 2: The Fall of Dr M

Author's Note: Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves, the events concerned, and the characters are all copyright of Sony Computer Entertainment America Inc., Sucker Punch Productions 2005-2006, and any other groups/people who deserve the credit. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction.

Once again, things remain more or less as they did in the game. However, before all is said and done, things will begin to take a turn in a new direction. What is that turn, and when will it take place? To find out, read on, and enjoy my novelization of Carmelita's battle against Dr M…

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Fall of Dr. M**

"_No one hurts** my** criminal!_"

These were the furious words that exploded from Carmelita's mouth as she aimed her Shock Pistol at Dr. M. They came out on their own, driven by the same surge of unknown emotion that had been coursing through her veins when she saw Sly in the brutal grasp of the mad doctor's giant monster. The emotion might have been unknown—or perhaps Carmelita knew, but wasn't willing to acknowledge it—but it was potent enough for the Latin detective to give it her all.

At this, Dr. M stopped laughing and turned his attention from Sly's distant body back to her—if he was at all intimidated by the vixen's declaration, he certainly didn't show it. "Oh, please!" the baboon scoffed, working the controls on his headgear so that the spider-legged contraption turned back towards her with a screech of damaged hydraulics. "If that pitiful thief means _that_ much to you, I'll be happy to bury you _right alongside him! _" With that, Dr. M squeezed the triggers, and the row of gun muzzles on his headset spat a salvo of crimson energy bolts in Carmelita's direction.

But the time-honed skills that the Interpol detective had gained over the years were already coming into play as she dove to one side, and Dr. M's blasts hit nothing but the far wall of the Cooper Vault's inner sanctum. Even as she hit the ground and rolled, Carmelita was returning fire with her Shock Pistol. The recoil from the massive gun vibrated up her arm, but it was something she had gotten used to over the years—it no longer shoved her arm backwards as it had done a few years ago, and she was able to squeeze off multiple shots with considerable accuracy. The volley of crackling blue "lightning bullets" forced Dr. M to backpedal, the metal spider-legs of his head-mounted contraption digging into the ground as he scuttled backwards. The shock rounds hit the floor and burst in flashes of electricity, the audible _crack_ of their impact barely noticed over the increasingly violent vibrations that rocked the Cooper Vault as the damage from earlier began to take its toll on the Vault's ancient supports.

Even as he was driven back by his opponent's assault, the crazed baboon genius retaliated—with his more advanced weaponry destroyed in the fight with Sly, and he himself battered and bruised from both Sly's attacks and the damage dealt to him earlier by the Cooper Vault's security system (courtesy of Bentley and Murray, whom he cursed even as he focused on getting rid of Carmelita), Dr, M had nothing left to rely on but the triple blasters. Ignoring the urgent beeping of some internal warning system on his spider-walker and re-routing all available power into his one remaining weapon, he gave an incoherent scream of rage and fired wildly, unleashing a storm of laser bolts that he most fervently hoped would blow that pesky detective clear out the window she had smashed through on her arrival and into the ocean far below, where no one would ever find her miserable corpse—just as his genetic monster ought to have done.

But Carmelita had other plans. Aided by the same speed and athletic prowess that had allowed her to keep up with Sly Cooper all these years, the vixen strafed and dodged from side to side, causing the deadly energy bolts to miss her by scant inches. Even as she dodged, Carmelita was taking aim with her Shock Pistol, amber-brown eyes narrowing as she chose her targets. Despite the danger she was in from the energy bolts, the vixen couldn't help but feel a fierce surge of satisfaction—as fast as Dr. M's head-mounted spider-walker was, he was no Sly Cooper.

All she needed now was some kind of opening…

Abruptly, the triple blaster on Dr. M's walker sputtered and died, plumes of smoke trailing from the red-hot barrels. This elicited a cry of frustration from the simian madman, who worked his controls in attempt to fix whatever had gone wrong with his last weapon. Had the guns overheated from the extensive use? Had they run out whatever form of ammunition they used?

Whatever it was, Carmelita didn't care—it was the opening she had been waiting for! Just as Dr. M started to let out a cry of triumph, having evidently found and corrected the source of the problem, the Latino vixen sighted along the barrel of her gun and fired.

_**BZAM!**_

_**BZAM!**_

_**BZAM!**_

The three expertly-aimed blasts hit clean and true, punching holes in the joints of three of the contraption's four metal legs and reducing delicate inner circuitry and wiring to slag. With its balancing servos destroyed and hydraulic fluid spraying all over the place, Dr. M's machine lurched violently to one side, its fall made all the worse by the momentum of its one good leg and the constant shaking that threatened to bring the ceiling down before long. With an indignant screech of alarm, the insane genius worked the controls to his headset frantically, trying to compensate for the damage by re-locating the weight and poise of the one undamaged leg.

But it was too little, too late. With the wildfire rush of adrenaline and vengeance surging through her veins, part of her mind still seeing Sly as he took the blast for her, Carmelita whipped up her Shock Pistol and drew a bead on the struggling mastermind. "Try throwing _this_ a long distance," she growled through clenched teeth as she squeezed the trigger.

_**BZAM!**_

Dr. M saw the shock blast coming, but with his spider-walker damaged, there was no way for him to dodge. A scream of abject rage had just started to emerge from his gaping mouth when the crackling "lightning bullet" struck him dead center, sending a torrent of electricity surging through his nerves and changing his cry of rage into an incoherent screech of pain as he was knocked back several steps; the only thing that kept him from being blown clear off his feet was the mechanical spider-walker's legs.

For a moment, the crazed baboon screamed and twisted wildly, his limbs kicking and flailing spasmodically in mid-air as lightning danced across his body. Then his eyes rolled backwards in his head, and he sagged forward. The plug-like apparatus on his head disconnected from the spider-walker, and the simian madman dropped to the floor in an unconscious heap, his fur frazzled from Carmelita's shock blast. Without any form of control from its creator, the spider-walker wobbled for a moment, then listed heavily to one side, dropping into a half-kneeling slump on two of its damaged legs.

For a moment, Carmelita just stood there and caught her breath, viewing Dr, M's insensate form with grim satisfaction. But in the next moment, she was looking up towards the walkway where Sly had landed, a sense of dread gnawing at her gut that had nothing to do with the increased rumbling that signified the impending collapse of the Cooper Vault. How long had it been since he had been shot? She had to get up there. But even with her athletic prowess, getting to such a high place would be a difficult proposition.

Then Carmelita noticed that the defunct spider-walker happened to be adjacent to the walkway, and she got an idea. Taking a few steps back to give herself room for a running start, the vixen sprinted towards the machine, willing her leg muscles into coiled steel springs for the leap to come. About five feet from impact, she sprang into the air, landing with cat-like grace on top of the spider-walker. Carried along by momentum, she pushed off again, leaping towards the catwalk with all the grace of a gymnast. That extra force disrupted the precarious balance of the spider-legged contraption, and it toppled like a felled tree to crash to the ground, narrowly avoiding flattening the unconscious Dr. M in the process.

But Carmelita hardly noticed this—she was already landing squarely on her feet on the catwalk. The impact from the landing jolted up her legs, but she ignored it as she raced over to the prone form of Sly Cooper. Dropping to her knees next to him, the vixen had to suppress a wince as she saw his injuries—his blue shirt had been scorched away on one side, exposing singed and bloody gray fur, and a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. And that wasn't counting the bruises (and possibly worse) that he had gotten from landing so hard on the catwalk.

It was a condition that Carmelita had never seen her most elusive quarry in before…and she didn't like it. "Sly?" she asked softly, shaking the raccoon's body gently. "Come on, Ringtail, can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was nothing. Then Sly groaned softly, his eyes flickering open as he stirred in her arms. "Nnngh…wha?" he muttered groggily, blinking as he tried to focus on the world around him. Then his eyes found hers, and he seemed to recognize her. "Car…Carmelita? That you?"

Carmelita nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart tightened at how his voice seemed so quiet and weak, so very different from the confident, charming tone she was so used to hearing from him. "I'm right here, Sly," she murmured softly, not knowing what else to say.

For a moment, Carmelita wasn't sure that Sly had heard her, he was so quiet. Then he managed a small, weary smile. Small as it was, there was such open, undisguised relief in that expression that Carmelita's heart skipped a beat. Then, with a soft sigh, the raccoon's head lolled to one side as his eyes closed, and his body went limp in her arms.

Carmelita's heart froze in her chest.

"_COOPER!"_

**------------------------**

For a bird flying over Kaine Island that night, the scene was one of utter chaos. Smoke was pluming upward from the superstructure of Dr. M's fortress, steel and concrete cracked and battered from untold amounts of damage. Scorched craters from Dr. M's energy cannons as he shot at Sly and Bentley in their first attempt to open the Cooper Vault; myriad bullet holes from the twin Vulcan guns of Sly's customized biplane as he tore through the base's antiaircraft defenses; the shattered metallic remains of the magnetic buoys and the antiaircraft coordinator that drifted aimlessly in the waves; etc.

It wasn't over, though. As the tall, imposing mountain that housed the Cooper Vault began to collapse in on itself, taking out both the catwalk that had been built around it and the intimidating drills and turrets that Dr. M had been using to try and crack open the near-indestructible vault door, chunks of the mountain began to slough away, turning into runaway catapult stones that tumbled down the rocky expanse to collide with Dr. M's fortress, sending up showers of debris and scrap metal as they smashed into guard towers, storage bunkers, and fortifying walls.

But that wasn't all, either. While Sly, Bentley, and Murray (and unknown to them, Carmelita) had been inside the Cooper Vault, the rest of the gang hadn't been resting idly—on the suggestion of their R.C. specialist, Penelope, they had decided to ensure that Dr. M couldn't send the full might of his personal army into the vault after the trio. To that end, they had been causing sabotage all across the island fortress—Dimitri had suited up and gone underwater again to place explosive charges on the underwater support struts, and the Panda King had set up his special brand of fireworks in the munition sheds. Then, on Penelope's signal, Dimitri hit the demolition switch, and the Panda King lit the fuses.

The resulting explosions were nothing short of chaotic—geysers of water burst skywards as the underwater struts collapsed inward, and the exploding fireworks unleashed destructive "flower-blooms" of fire and multi-colored sparks. It was the final straw. A few moments later, the whole fortress went up in a series of explosions that briefly turned the night to day. At the same time, the mountain collapsed inward, burying the Cooper Vault—and with it, both the legacy of the Cooper line and the crazed baboon who had refused to give up the treasure that he had thirsted after for so long.

The battle had ended. And it had been won at a bittersweet cost—the legacy of the infamous Cooper clan was lost again, possibly for good.

But it wasn't the end of the story…

**_To Be Continued…_**


	3. Chapter 3: On Equal Ground Pt 1

Author's Note: Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves, the events concerned, and the characters are all copyright of Sony Computer Entertainment America Inc., Sucker Punch Productions 2005, and any other groups/people who deserve the credit. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction.

Now, the plot will take a vast step away from what Sucker Punch came up with—don't get me wrong, the ending they came up with was, IMHO, pretty good. But I've had this scene burning in my mind before I saw the ending—before I got Sly 3, in fact. Sly Cooper and Carmelita Fox, alone on the shores of some beach somewhere after a decisive final battle against a common foe, with the master thief badly injured.

At long last, I can express the scene on paper—I just tweaked it a little to fit into the game's plot.

Read on, my friends. Read on…

* * *

**Chapter Three: On Equal Ground, Part One**

Sly became dimly aware of himself once again, and for a brief moment, he wondered if that was such a good thing. At first, all he registered was pain—his forehead throbbed; his muscles ached; his mouth was dry; intermediate bursts of dull pain blossomed from a series of bruises in various parts of his body, and his side felt as though someone had swung a hammer coated in hot embers against it (although this felt strangely dulled for some reason)—along with a deep-seated lethargy that left him as limp and helpless as a rag doll, and in danger of falling back asleep at any moment.

For a moment, the fog of half-consciousness filled his head, and he couldn't remember anything that had happened recently, other than whatever it was had taken a physical and emotional toll on him. Then, like grains of sand cascading through an hourglass, memories started to trickle back into his head...

...Breaking into the Cooper Vault...

...Making his way through the Ancestors' Gauntlet into the Vault's Inner Sacntum...

...The fight with Dr. M...

...Carmelita's unexpected arrival...

...Taking the blast that Dr. M had meant for her...

...And finally, passing out in Carmelita's arms...

In the small part of his mind that was still half-unconscious, he was fairly surprised; he had half-expected Dr. M's energy blast to kill him. But he was alive—badly injured, but alive. Besides, as hurt as he was, Sly knew from his half-fogged memories that he felt relatively better than he had been earlier. That was saying something, at least.

Sly started to feel the mists of sleep crawl over him again, a silent promise of comfort and peace if he would only let his conscious mind go and slip back into oblivion. But the raccoon resisted. It wasn't just curiosity that kept him awake—he knew that wherever he was, he was practically helpless. If he was awake, he could hear if his friends were nearby and call to them. At the very least, he wanted to be awake for whatever fate had in mind for him. After a long moment, Sly finally gathered the strength toopen his eyes.

At first, things were dark and blurry. As the raccoon's vision began to swim back into focus, he realized that part of this was because it was still night out—he could make out the myriad luminous pinpricks of stars through the clouds that were only faintly discernable from the deep indigo-black of the night sky (there was a strange orange edge to the sky, as though there was a large fire nearby). The cry of seagulls reached his ears, accompanied by the rhythmic crashing of ocean waves as they met shore in a foaming rush. Focusing his will to overcome the lethargy in his veins as best he could, Sly managed to turn his head this way and that, and saw a couple of palm trees framing his field of vision. He was lying on his back, with soft sand underneath him.

However, the things that stood out the most for Sly was the fact that his head was resting in what felt an awful lot like somebody's lap, and a gloved hand was caressing his forehead in what could only be considered a tender gesture.

"Oh, you're awake," a female voice said from somewhere behind him.

The tone was different from what Sly was used to hearing—there was a definite softness in her voice, as opposed to the bold accusing tones she usually used—he'd recognize that spicy Latino accent anywhere. While he knew its owner would have made him her top priority after dealing with Dr. M, part of him still managed to be surprised. Still, the surprise wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Despite the mild ache in his neck, the raccoon craned his neck to get a better look. Sure enough, it was Carmelita Fox, who had his head nestled gently in her lap. As Sly looked up at her, he couldn't help but notice something about the look on her face. It seemed nonchalant enough…and yet—was it just his imagination?—Sly could swear he saw a faint smile of relief on the vixen's face, which seemed to be reflected in her eyes as she looked at him. It occurred to Sly that he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her like this.

In fact, he realized, this might be the first time.

Looking up at the beautiful vixen detective, Sly felt a surge of emotions course through him. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but there was something that curiosity urged him to determine first. "How long was I unconscious?" he asked, his voice coming out somewhat hoarse to his ears (owing no doubt to the fact that his mouth was almost completely dry), "and where am I now?"

At the first question, Carmelita averted her gaze and was quiet, an uncomfortable expression on her face. "Long enough," she finally answered. "After you lost consciousness, the whole vault started coming down. I couldn't wake you up, so I had to carry you out. It wasn't as easy getting out as it was getting in, what with the whole place coming down and having to haul your striped tail, but I managed."

"I see." Sly paused to lick his parched lips, fighting to get his words out. "And you've been watching over me ever since?"

At this, Carmelita's ears flattened, and she looked away again. "You're not getting away from me that easily," she huffed. Her voice seemed firm and certain as she said this, and yet…there was that subtle tone in her voice again. That softness which suggested that there was more to her statement than it's face value…the softness that made Sly crack a smile, despite the situation—or perhaps because of it.

"Well, all the same…" Sly paused, offering his lovely rival a small, earnest smile. "…I'm grateful." Carmelita didn't respond, but the raccoon could have sworn he saw the inside of her ears redden a little at his comment. Was it real, or just a trick of the light? Wanting to get a better look, he started to lever himself upright, but his limbs felt weak and non-responsive, and a dull sting of agony stabbed through his side at the sudden shift. Even as Sly winced from the pain, Carmelita's paw was at his chest, both firm and gentle as it pressed him back down to the soft sand.

"Take it easy, Ringtail," the vixen admonished. "You're still hurt from that crazy little stunt of yours." Averting her gaze, she added in that soft tone, "It's a small miracle that you're alive." There was a pause. "You want to sit up?" she asked quietly.

Sly tried to answer, but his mouth felt too dry to work properly anymore. Unable to speak, he instead managed a small nod. The next thing he knew, Carmelita was lifting his torso up, gently easing him into a sitting position against what felt like a wall of rock. Perhaps knowing how uncomfortable the hard stone would be, the vixen took off her jacket and pushed it behind Sly's head, creating a makeshift pillow for Sly to rest his head against. When her hands came back, one of them was holding a small canteen marked by, appropriately enough, a badge-like star.

Uncorking the flask, she held it to the raccoon's lips, steadying his head with her other hand. "Drink this, Cooper," she told him. "You sound like you could use it."

The water cascaded across his lips and tongue, rushing down his throat. Despite being slightly lukewarm, it was the most cool and refreshing thing that Sly's parched mouth and throat could remember at the moment. As he drank, resisting the urge to take it in huge gulps, the master thief took stock of his surroundings. As the information from his senses had suggested earlier, they were outside, on the scenic shoreline of Kaine Island. Carmelita had found an outcropping of rock that provided some shelter from the elements, which was what he was now leaning back against. It was a scenic spot—soft white sand dotted by multicolored shells, palm trees rising from the shore like curved, star-topped towers, and a breathtaking view of the ocean and the star-swept night sky.

Swallowing the water, Sly turned his attention from his surroundings down to his waist, where he had taken the shot from Dr. M. While his shirt was still scorched away where the energy blast had struck, the torso beneath was now wrapped tightly in pale green bandages. As he looked at them, he reflected that the wound he had received from the blast seemed to be hurting a lot less than it should.

As if she had been reading his thoughts, Carmelita spoke up. "It's a new development from Interpol's R&D," she explained. "Field bandages laced with a mixture of aloe, painkillers, and curative medicine. It's no replacement for a hospital, but in my line of work, it can make all the difference."

Sly managed a wry smile. "So I can imagine," he quipped softly, his usual velvet tones restored by the water. Then he closed his eyes and chuckled. "Awfully kind treatment for a prisoner, don't you think?"

Carmelita blinked in surprise at his laughter. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "Are you making light of me, Ringtail? I'm _not_ letting you escape this time, you know!"

However, for some odd reason, Sly's mirth proved infectious—soon, Carmelita was fighting to stifle a giggle of her own, before finally losing that battle and laughing along with Sly. From there, their chuckling progressed into genuine laughter. Neither the master thief nor the Interpol detective was entirely sure what the exact reason for their laughter was. Was it relief at Sly being alive? Amusement at their present situation? Pent-up tension releasing itself? Perhaps one of these reasons, followed by the others? Regardless, there was no stopping this fit of laughter now that it had started, no matter how absurd it might be.

After a few minutes, their gradually laughter died down, giving way to an awkward silence that was broken only by the piercing cry of seagulls and the muffled crash of the deep azure waves. Carmelita busied herself with reloading her Shock Pistol, while Sly just looked out at the ocean. Neither the master thief or the Interpol detective was paying much attention to their actions; both had turned their attention inwards to their own personal thoughts.

Finally, Carmelita decided to break the silence. "You didn't have to do that for me, you know," she said softly, her hands seeming to move of their own accord as they reached out,her fingers tracing the bandages over Sly's chest with a gentleness that was somehow intimate. "I could have dodged it, you know."

Thinking back to the sacrifice he had made for her back in the Cooper Vault's Inner Sanctum, Sly shook his head. "You're wrong, Carmelita," he said quietly. "I _did_ have to—and not just because Dr. M had the advantage." Here, the raccoon looked away, his expression somber. "I…owed you that much."

Carmelita blinked in surprise. "What are you talking about, Ringtail?"

"I'm talking about everything that's happened between us over the years," he replied. "We've been playing Cops and Robbers for the longest time—you've chased me all over the globe, and I've managed a narrow escape each time. In that respect, I've been as bold and cunning as any of my ancestors. But when it came to things between the two of us…" Closing his eyes, he sighed quietly. "…I've been a coward, Carmelita."

Carmelita wasn't quite sure she heard right. "A coward? _You?_" she asked incredulously. As far as the vixen was concerned, some of the things that the ring-tailed thief had done had been pretty _daring_…

If he was at all surprised by her reaction, he didn't show it. "Sure, I've flirted with you," he continued softly. "Sure, I've helped you when you were in serious danger. You and I even had an honest heart-to-heart after the whole Klaww Gang incident." Sly looked at Carmelita, looking troubled. "But let me ask you, Inspector Fox…have I ever done anything to prove that I wasn't just toying with your heart?"

Carmelita blinked, taken aback by the question. "Well…" she began hesitantly.

The raccoon turned away, his expression one of guilt. "I doubt it," he said softly. "And it's not like I haven't had the opportunity. There was that ten-second "head start" you offered back at the Krack-Karov Volcano. There was the dance in India, a couple years later. Both of those times, and more than once since then, I've had the chance to show you genuine care, without doing anything to take advantage of the situation as a thief."

Sly paused briefly, a note of genuine regret entering his voice. "But I never did anything to further things between us. Instead, I kept messing with you, as though nothing would ever change and we had all the time in the—_nngh!_."

This last part was caused by another sudden flash of pain—once again, dulled by the painkillers, but still potent—that shot through his injuries like a needle when he shifted a bit, causing him to wince as he instinctively clasped a hand to his bandaged torso, eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched in a painful grimace. Feeling a completely un-cop-like surge of concern for the criminal who had eluded her for so long, Carmelita reached out to clasp his shoulder, steadying him as he endured the pain—unconsciously, her other hand went to the one that Sly had pressed over his injured side, covering it in another unintentionally tender gesture.

"I told you to take it easy, Ringtail," she admonished. However, there was no real force to Carmelita's words—despite her hurtful memories of the incidents that Sly had mentioned, the vixen couldn't find it in her heart to berate him. Not after what he had done for her only a few hours ago.

Not after he had nearly died for her sake.

After a few seconds, the pain subsided, and Sly was able to relax again. For a few seconds, an awkward silence reigned once more. As Carmelita released her hold on him, the ring-tailed thief took a moment or two to let his mind browse over the palette of his memories, recalling all the missed opportunities he'd had with her, all the way up to the revelation he'd had while in the clutches of Dr. M's genetic monstrosity. Closing his eyes, he sighed ruefully. "I've been a fool, Carmelita," he finally admitted. "Until tonight, I was so caught up in the thrill of the chase that I nearly lost sight of what really matters."

Carmelita could have sworn she felt her heart stop. "What do you mean?"

Sly turned his gaze back towards the Interpol detective. "You've always been unique, Carmelita," he said quietly. "I've been chased by the police ever since I became a thief. But you, Carmelita, you were different from most of them—you were always hot on my tail, with the skills and determination to keep me on my toes. In a way, I owe you—I had to improve my skills in order to elude you, and I always had to stay sharp in order to keep a step ahead. If anyone from Interpol could catch me, it'd be you."

The master thief stopped here, a thoughtful look on his face. "But there's more to it than that." Another pause, and his expression changed—if Carmelita hadn't known better, she could have sworn it was shyness that now dominated his normally cleverfeatures. "It's because of _who_ you are, Carmelita," he admitted softly. "Your fiery, passionate spirit; your honest belief in right and wrong, and your undeniable beauty…" The raccoon paused, letting out an almost wistful sigh. "It wouldn't matter if I'd made the heist of a lifetime—things just wouldn't be the same if you weren't there, Ms. Fox," he confessed. "I just never realized just how much you meant to me…until tonight."

Carmelita felt herself blush beneath her fur. Despite the logical side of her mind screaming that this _had_ to be another of Sly's tricks, that he was just trying to weasel his way out of arrest, she couldn't help but be flattered by the ring-tailed thief's charming words. Unbidden, the memory of when the two of them had been alone in the Interpol helicopter sprang to mind, reminding her that it wouldn't be the _first_ time that the ring-tailed thief had been completely honest with her—and after the bold sacrifice he'd just made for her, it was highly unlikely that he would be lying now…

"Sly…?" she asked softly.

With a slight groan, the master thief shifted again, leaning back against the makeshift pillow of Carmelita's jacket as he spoke. "That's why I had to put it all on the line for you back in the vault..." Sly paused, his deep brown eyes showing nothing but sincerity as they locked with hers.

"Because I love you, Carmelita Fox," he said quietly.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	4. Chapter 4: On Equal Ground Pt 2

Author's Note: Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves, the events concerned, and the characters are all copyright of Sony Computer Entertainment America Inc., Sucker Punch Productions 2005, and any other groups/people who deserve the credit. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction.

And here we are. The fourth chapter. Admitedly, things have been going a bit slow, but I've had a lot of real-life stuff on my hands lately.

Don't worry, though; I've got every intent of finishing this fic--both for my own fulfillment, and for the sake of those who are following this story. :) This is a labor of love for me...ever since I saw the end of Sly 3, I've been dying to do my own version of the ending. Don't get me wrong, the ending that Sucker Punch came up with was pretty good...but I have my own vision of how the adventure could have ended. A finale where...ah, but I won't spoil it for you. :)

**IMPORTANT UPDATE Since some of those who viewed this fic feel that Carmelita was rather callous in this chapter, I revised it a little to better show her growing feelings and inner conflict, while trying to remain true to our favorite vixen's character. I do hope that I succeeded—please let me know if I did; I'm always open to comments, positive or negative. :)**

But anyway, let's move on...What will Carmelita's (revised) reaction to Sly's confession of love be?

* * *

**Chapter Four: On Equal Ground, Part Two**

"_Because I love you, Carmelita Fox."_

Over the years, Carmelita had built a wall of reinforced iron around her heart, so that she wouldn't be affected by the charming words that her most elusive quarry was fond of using with her. She had thought that wall impenetrable.

And yet, despite all her efforts to make it so, gaps had appeared in it all the same.

Their cause wasn't so much from the flirty chit-chat that Sly had shared with her (though it had surely had some effect, minor as it was), but rather from the things he'd done that challenged Carmelita's black-and-white view of the law. Every time he had risked his life for her, been particularly romantic in his flirtations, or had shown some sign that he might honestly care about her, those walls had been weakened. Even after Carmelita reinforced those walls after such encounters and convinced herself that Sly was nothing but a clever thief who knew how to get under her fur, those feelings had remained, and changed her opinion of him—even if she would only admit it to herself, and no one else.

And now, this. Just six words. So simple, really.

And yet, combined with the things Sly had said leading up to them, they had the power to penetrate that iron wall like it was thin air, and touch the vixen's heart. Not so much because of the words themselves, but rather because of the meaning behind them.

All her years of training in the police academy, coupled with her experiences in the field, had left Carmelita with a rather acute sense of cop's intuition. It was this intuition, this gut feeling, that made Carmelita realize that Sly hadn't said all of this because he was injured and at her mercy—if their positions had been reversed, he wouldn't have done anything different.

He had said it because he had _meant_ it.

Every word.

With that realization, the iron wall around her heart buckled dangerously. For a moment, she didn't trust herself to speak; her emotions were warring within her. Part of her, that rational cop side, was telling her to pull herself together and arrest Sly. But another part of her, an instinctive, primal side, wanted nothing more than to pull the raccoon into her arms and kiss him senseless, despite their opposite positions on the law. And in the face of Sly's sincere confession of his feelings, the latter side was winning the internal struggle.

And now that the wall around her heart was crumbling, she understood what she was feeling for Sly right now. And those feelings definitely had _nothing_ to do with her professional interests. He was everything she could have asked for—clever, brave, loyal to those he cared about, dependable when you needed him…and so charming. So handsome. It was as if he'd stepped out of one of the old James bond films, he was such a talented, silver-tongued rogue. Just as Sly had said that things wouldn't mean as much to him if she weren't around, Carmelita knew that life without Sly Cooper wouldn't be the same for her.

And yet, for all this, there was one important detail that made her heart ache as her cop side pointed it out…

_Damn it all,_ she thought wistfully, a strong surge of regret surging through her as she averted her gaze from Sly. _Why does he have to be a thief? If he were a cop, like me—or at least a law-abiding citizen—things would be just perfect…_

Then inspiration hit. As if some part of her subconscious had been listening to her lament and decided to offer a solution, the Interpol detective suddenly found herself recalling a half-formed idea that she had sometimes considered after a particularly long day, or late at night when she was browsing through the files she had on Sly. She had never taken it too far, though, always stopping herself before she gave it too much consideration and dismissing it as being impossible beyond being a mere fantasy—after all, she had reasoned, Sly was just a criminal who was playing with her feelings.

Now that she knew that he truly loved her, however, it didn't seem like such a bad idea at all…

Snapping out of her reverie, she looked back at Sly. "Cooper…I have a question for you," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice calm and professional. "What if…" She hesitated. "…What if you could come with me?"

Sly looked at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Carmelita turned her gaze to the night sky. "It's something I've been thinking about for a while, now," she admitted. "You're talented, Ringtail—there's no denying that. Agile, clever, resourceful, daring…you've got all that going for you, and then some." Then she paused, looking hesitant—what she was going to say next was something she'd only admitted to herself, and even then infrequently.

And yet, Sly had proved that he truly fit this description.

"And there's more to it," she finally continued, her voice softening. "You're no ordinary thief, either—you've done things that most lawbreakers wouldn't have even thought of doing. You've taken down wanted criminals who've kept out of Interpol's reach for years. You've helped me out several times in the past, even after I've kept chasing you. You were even willing to give yourself up for your friends after the whole Klaww Gang incident…a lot of guys wouldn't do that."

Another pause, and then Carmelita looked back at him. "You've got promise, Sly…I—that is, Interpol—could use someone like you." She paused, looking apologetic. "You'd have to serve time in jail, of course, but I think I might be able to convince the top brass of Interpol to make some kind of deal with you…"

Sly blinked at this, looking as surprised as the vixen detective had ever seen him. "Carmelita," he asked slowly, as if making sure that she was being serious, "Are you asking me if I'd like to be your partner?"

At this, Carmelita found herself on the spot—she hadn't quite considered that he might actually ask her this straight out. Suddenly, she found herself very interested in looking at the night sky. "I…well…" she stammered. Looking down, she finally let out a sigh. "_Si_," she admitted softly, feeling a strong heat rise to her ears.

Damn it, was she _blushing?_

Still, she didn't mind as much as she would have a while ago—back when she didn't know that Sly's feelings for her were genuine. But her emotions were still a jumble—after looking at Sly as a thief for so long, with that iron wall around her heart, she wasn't used to openly voicing what she felt deep down.

"Like I said, you've got a lot of potential, Ringtail," she added hastily, trying to justify herself to her cop side. "It's a shame to see it wasted on thievery, and, well…"

…_You love him,_ the instinctive side of her chimed in silently. _Admit it. You're flattered by what he said about you, and you've got feelings for him, too. Why don't you just admit it to him?_

Shaking her head in an attempt to quiet that subtle, sensuous voice, Carmelita tried to slip back into the role of an Interpol detective, reminding herself that he was still a thief, and she was still a cop—she had to at least _act_ like it mattered. "Look, I'm just trying to do us _both_ a favor," she snapped, though there was no force to her words, and she knew that he knew it. "Or do you want me to just slap the cuffs on you right now? I can, you know!"

When there was no answer after a few seconds, Carmelita looked back at Sly in mild surprise—instead of making some kind of witty reply like he usually did, the ring-tailed thief had turned his gaze skyward, his expression thoughtful. Just like in the Cooper Vault's Inner Sanctum, the vixen found herself looking at a side of Sly that she had rarely seen before, but now knew existed.

"You partner, huh?" Sly mused quietly, almost to himself. "I'm a thief, through and through…but still, it certainly sounds interesting."

Carmelita huffed. "Oh, you can act as tough as you want, Cooper, but don't forget that I've got the upper…" Then she blinked in surprise as the last part sank in. "Wait, what?" she asked with minor disbelief. Instantly, everything changed. Looking at Sly, she leaned forward so that she could meet him eye-to-eye. "Are you serious, Ringtail?" she asked, sudden hope flooding through her. "Would you _like_ to be my partner?"

Instead of answering, The master thief simply leaned back. "At any rate, it's out of my hands," he admitted. Seeing Carmelita's puzzled stare, he gestured to his bandages, adding, "Take a look, Inspector Fox—you've got me dead to rights. I'm in no condition to run anywhere right now…not with injuries like these. And even if I shout, there's not much chance that my friends will be able to get here in time—and something tells me that they won't be able to bust me out of an Interpol helicopter this time."

The ring-tailed thief spread his arms out to his sides, palms upturned—very much the image of someone who was unarmed and defenseless. "Like you said, Carmelita, you've got the upper hand—I'm completely at your mercy," he admitted. "It looks like you've finally caught me." Then, surprisingly enough, he chuckled softly. "Congratulations," he added with a slight, rueful smile. "I know you've been looking forward to this for a while, now."

Carmelita hadn't thought she could be surprised any further. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected something like this—she had always thought that she'd finally outsmart Sly, surpass him in terms of skill, or just get lucky. She had also thought that he'd be desolated—or at least disappointed—at the discovery that not even _he_ could escape the long arm of the law.

Sly had just proven her wrong on both counts.

Unexpectedly, the Interpol detective felt a strong sense of _déjà vu_—at the end of the whole Klaww Gang incident, Sly had turned himself in to her custody so that his friends could get away, and had even taken his capture in good stride. Granted, he had wound up escaping again, but something told her that he had been just as surprised as she was by the opportunity that his friends had given him.

And the situation here and now was surprisingly similar—not only was he admitting that she had him right where she wanted him, but was all but surrendering to her! And instead of being upset, he was _congratulating_ her on her success! Sure, he seemed a little put out at the prospect of finally being caught, but...

As she looked at Sly, Carmelita hesitated—despite herself, the vixen suddenly found herself very reluctant to carry through on her promise to arrest him. Maybe her sense of honor wasn't satisfied with catching him this way. Maybe the sight of the raccoon's injuries reminded her that he had suffered them on her behalf. Maybe some part of her felt bad about taking advantage of him in his weakened condition.

Or maybe…just maybe…it was because he had just admitted his feelings for her—and that he'd been telling the truth when he said it. And if he was giving himself up like this, then surely it meant…

It could even be possible that, deep down on some subconscious level, she didn't _want_ the chase to end.

Then Carmelita shook her head mentally, her logical side fighting hard to regain control. Regardless of what had been said and done, Sly Cooper was _still_ a thief, she was _still_ a cop, and she _still_ had a job to do.

At least, that's what she kept _telling_ herself as she hefted her Shock Pistol and pointed it at the master thief.

"Oh, believe me, I have," she whispered softly in reply, tightening her grip on the imposing Interpol-issue weapon as she took steady aim at his half-prostrate form. "I've been looking forward to bringing you in for a _long_ time. The one criminal who's always eluded me, one of the most cunning thieves of our time…and _I'll_ be the one to catch you. _I'll_ be the one to put an end to your thieving streak. And one way or another, _I'll_ be the one to reform you, and make you into one of Interpol's best and brightest."

Keeping the Shock Pistol trained on Sly, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she reached into her jeans pocket and withdrew a pair of handcuffs, their polished steel glinting silver-white in the moonlight as she twirled them on one finger.

"It'll be the greatest triumph of my career," she added with a note of would-be pride in her voice as she clicked off the safety to her weapon.

But her voice still trembled.

_**To Be Continued…

* * *

**_

Yes, I know it's STILLa bit of acliffhanger. Aren't I EVIL? (insert impish grin here)

What will happen next? Has Carmelita finally caught her most elusive quarry? Will the rest of the Cooper Gang show up in time to rescue their leader? Is the Cooper legacy lost for good? And what will happen between Sly and Carmelita now?

For these answers and more, stay tuned...

P.S. _Si_ is Spanish for "yes." Given that some of theother good "Sly Cooper"ficsthat I've readhave given a nod to Carmelita's Latin background by occasionally having her use her second language, I thought I'd honor the tradition. Hope nobody minds. :)

As always, reader response is appreciated--it lets me know whether I'm doing a good job or not. See ya next chapter...


	5. Chapter 5: On Equal Ground Pt 3

Ladies and gents, I apologize for the long wait. Things have been chaotic in my life, but I've still found time to work on this fanfic. Like I mentioned previously, this has personal meaning to me—I've read several other SlyxCarmelita fics on and they're all nice…but I've got my own vision of how I'd like to see Sly and Carmelita get together (in their own way), and I want to add it to the list. So fear not, dear readers—I'm seeing this one through.

Oh, and Carmelita uses more Spanish in this chapter—I wanted to embrace her Latin roots just a little bit more than Sucker Punch did in the games. If you're wondering what she's saying, the translations can be found near the end of this chapter.

And, without further ado let us pick up where the last chapter had us hanging from a cliff (so to speak)...

* * *

**Chapter Five: On Equal Ground, Part Three**

Now that the sense of dread from Dr. M's fortress and the threat of its myriad mechanical/biological dangers was no longer present, one could truly appreciate the exotic beauty of Kaine Island. The soft sand that spread across its shores was a pale white hue, turned a faint bluish color by the night, and studded here and there by exotic shells whose brilliant medley of colors were only slightly muted by the darkness of night. Palm trees rose skyward, their broad leaves casting jet-black shadows across the ground. Above, the moon hung high in the deep indigo sky amid the complex web of stars, casting its pale, ethereal radiance down on the beach and giving it an otherworldly appearance.

To a less-than-dispassionate observer, it all added up to a scene akin to the setting of a steamy romance novel—complete with a beautiful Latin vixen as company.

However, this most alluring aspect of the island was presently lost on Sly Cooper. Normally, the raccoon was something of a romantic when the mood struck him (as it often did when a certain Interpol detective was around), and this would have been a dream come true for him. Unfortunately, however, the raccoon's attentions were drawn to more pressing matters at the moment.

Having a large pistol aimed at his head and facing arresthad a tendecy of doingthat.

Funny thing, though—Sly had always thought that if he'd found himself in this situation, he'd be crestfallen. And yet, as he stared down the muzzle of that imposing weapon, the ring-tailed thief couldn't find it in him to be truly afraid, or even particularly upset, of what was going to happen. If anything, he felt strangely relaxed—for every aspect of this situation that seemed to demand concern, he could think of a reason to the contrary.

For one thing, there was the Shock Pistol that Carmelita was aiming at him—under normal circumstances, Sly knew that Carmelita would open fire at him without hesitation. But with him wounded as he was, and considering that she'd gone to all the trouble of tending to his injuries—to say nothing of the words that had been exchanged between them—the master thief firmly suspected that Carmelita wasn't really planning to shoot him. Oh, she'd probably slap the cuffs on him for sure, but he had a feeling that the Shock Pistol was only there for intimidation—perhaps more out of habit than anything else.

As for being arrested, well…_that's_ where things got interesting.

Carmelita would bring him in now; Sly was certain of it. And yet, he wasn't as upset as he thought he'd be. His words had had an affect on the vixen—he'd seen the rosy hue in her ears that had betrayed her blush when she had been flustered, and the soft, almost hopeful tones she had used when she was offering to make him her partner hadn't been lost on him. It was clear that what he'd said—what he'd done—had meant something to her…even if she wasn't openly acknowledging it.

In fact, the very fact that Carmelita was even _offering_ to make him her partner, instead of just slapping the cuffs on him…that proved that she saw him as more than just another criminal. Even if she arrested him, Sly knew that he had more to look forward to than a long stretch behind bars—Carmelita had revealed that she wanted more than just his capture…she wanted him to work _alongside_ her. She wanted him as her partner…and Sly had a feeling that she wanted a little more than that.

His words hadn't fallen on deaf ears, after all. Even though Carmelita hadn't actually admitted it openly, the master thief suspected that she felt for him what he felt for her…and that by expressing his own feelings, he had gone a long way towards making up for his past mistakes with her. Even if he was arrested now, the raccoon knew that things would work out, one way or another.

For this reason, above all others, Sly Cooper could stare into the Shock Pistol's muzzle, and the promise of arrest that it represented, without a great deal of fear or regret.

Perhaps his face betrayed what had seen, because an alarmed expression abruptly flashed across Carmelita's face, as though the two of them had been fencing, and she had unwittingly let down her guard and revealed a fatal weakness to him. Quickly shaking her head as if to regain her composure, the vixen thrust her gun forward, the imposing weapon trembling only slightly as its muzzle was practically pressed against Sly's forehead.

"You think I'm joking around here, Ringtail!" she demanded vehemently—her tone was firm, and her expression was angry…but her eyes betrayed her emotional conflict, and her voice carried a faint trace of desperation, as though she was trying to convince _herself_ of what she was saying more than she was trying to convince _him_. "I'm _going_ to bring you in! I mean it!" She brandished the handcuffs in a display that would have been threatening, were it not for the conflict in her eyes. "You hear me, Ringtail?" she demanded, her voice shaking with emotion. "I _will_!"

For an endless, tension-filled moment, time seemed to slowly stretch, like plastic melting over an open flame. Thief and detective locked eyes, neither giving an inch. The volatile moment stretched outward for a few more seconds…and then, slowly, Carmelita's hard policewoman demeanor melted away, and her expression softened, becoming almost vulnerable, as she finally lowered the Shock Pistol.

"But not like this," she admitted softly, her voice almost breaking as she closed her eyes. "After all…I owe you, too."

Noting the re-phrasing of what he said to her only minutes before, Sly raised a curious eyebrow. "Owe me?" he asked curiously. "You mean for how I saved you from Dr. M back in the vault?"

Carmelita nodded. "There's that, of course…" Then she hesitated. "…But that's not all/there's more to it, too." She paused, looking away. "You've done a lot for me, Cooper…so much, in fact, that it's actually kind of hard to figure out where I should begin." She turned her gaze skyward, her expression becoming thoughtful. "If you want to get technical, I suppose it really started back at the Krack-Karov Volcano—sure, there was that little _truco_ you pulled with me afterwards…" her temper flared up for a moment, but then she settled down. "…But you still saved my life, Ringtail. There's no denying that."

Sly nodded as his own memories of those fateful ten seconds came to mind. "If I could go back and do things differently, I would have," he apologized. "I shouldn't have tricked you like that."

Carmelita was quiet at this, and simply looked at him. There was a flicker of doubt in those amber-brown pools, along with a deep-rooted pain that made Sly feel even guiltier about what he'd done back then. Then, after a moment, that pain and doubt began to fade, replaced by something resembling relief.

"I believe you," she said quietly. It wasn't the same as forgiving him outright, but it was close enough.

Taking a moment to slide her Shock Pistol back into its holster, the Latin vixen went on. "But that was just the beginning," she said. "There was more—much more. Take that whole Klaww Gang mess, for example—you did a _lot_ for me back then." She began ticking off the list on her free hand. "Rescuing me from the Contessa's lair; helping me stay hidden from Interpol when Neyla had set me up, keeping their attention on you long enough for me to expose that backstabbing _bruja_ for what she really was, teaming up with me to take her down…" Here, she paused. "…Not to mention turning yourself in afterwards to help me clear my name completely—that's not something just _any_ thief would do."

She paused again, looking at Sly with a strangely touched expression. "Speaking of which…I hadn't been planning on that little chat we had in the helicopter, you know. But once we got started, it was hard to stop. It just felt so…right. The more we talked, the better I felt…maybe I'd been waiting for something like this all along—the chance to get to know you better." She paused. "Sure, you wound up getting away from me again, but…well…" She let her lips curve in a small smile. "…I guess that night made me see you in a whole new way."

Sly nodded, a small smile playing about his lips as the conversation they'd had—the memories, laughs, and personal secrets that they had shared—came back to him. "I could say the same, Ms. Fox," he quipped. "It meant a lot to me, too."

Carmelita returned his smile for a few seconds, then went on. "In any case, what I was thinking about when I said I owed you, Ringtail—apart from you saving my life back in the vault—happened in Australia. I mean, after you freed me from that evil spirit mask that Lieutenant Gronk and his mercenaries told me about later on, I was unconscious…completely defenseless, and all alone out there in the desert. All sorts of things could have happened to me…but they didn't."

Those lovely amber-brown eyes turned to his, and there was suddenly something very intense and personal in those enticing pools. "It was because of _you_, Sly Cooper," she said firmly. "Those pictures you left on my camera for me were proof of that. And as aggravating as they were, they showed me something else, too—you and your gang kept an eye on me that night; you made sure that I was safe when you didn't have much reason to…" She paused. "…And when you could have just _left_ me out there."

Then Carmelita looked down, suddenly seeming rather vulnerable. "You could have done a _lot_ of things, back then…and I wouldn't have been able to stop you," she added softly.

Sly was silent as the full implications of what the Latin vixen had said sank in—what she was referring to, and just how easy it would have been for him. For a moment, the realization was such that he could only look down, sobered by what Carmelita was suggesting. After a moment, he finally found his voice. "If I were that kind of scum," he said at length, "If I was a heartless thug who didn't care about anything but himself…I might have."

He paused, and looked at the lovely vixen for a long, meaningful moment. "But I'm _not_ like that, Carmelita," he added solemnly.

Carmelita nodded. "I know," she said softly as she met his gaze. "That's why I'm going to let you go, just this once. "With a sigh, she held up the handcuffs she still wielded in one hand, as if illustrating her point. "You didn't take advantage of me back in Australia, so I won't take advantage of you, now."

Sly nodded, understanding the reasons for this latest turn of events, yet still feeling blown away by them. "Thank you, Ms. Fox," he said quietly. "That means everything."

Carmelita didn't say anything in response, but returned his gaze…and for a brief moment, Sly could have sworn he saw a brief, genuine smile cross her face as his words. In the next instant, however, the vixen's feisty Interpol demeanor had returned, and she shook her finger warningly. "But don't get cocky, Ringtail!" she warned sharply. "This is a one-time _reparto_—the next time I see you, I'm bringing you in!"

Then she paused, and her voice softened somewhat as she slipped her handcuffs back into her pocket. "But I'll do it my way," she added softly. "I'll capture you myself, fair and square…and then I'll make a cop out of you, one way or another." Then she favored Sly with a smile. "You've earned that much, at least."

For a moment, the ring-tailed thief looked back at her, looking almost nonplussed. Then he chuckled softly, as though genuinely amused by something.

Carmelita stared at him as if he were making fun of her. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

Sly held up one hand in a placating gesture, still smiling. "Nothing, nothing," he reassured her. "It's just that…I've always thought that you're quite lovely when you're angry." He paused. "But you know something?" Here, his smile changed, becoming suave and compelling. "…You're even more beautiful when you smile."

At this, Carmelita quickly averted her gaze—but not before Sly caught a glimpse of her flattered expression and the rosy hue that now colored the inside of her ears. "_La adulación le conseguirá en ninguna parte_, Ringtail," she chided. But there was very little force behind her words, and the softness of her tone seemed to suggest a whole different story from what she was saying.

Just as Sly was about to deliver a witty comeback, Carmelita turned back to look at him, and the look on her face caused the words to die on his lips. While her expression seemed certain, the amber-brown pools of her eyes betrayed something else altogether— in them, the raccoon saw a storm of conflicting emotions: doubt, stubbornness, irritation…and compassion. Vulnerability. And—perhaps it was just his imagination—something _sultry_, as well?

Then, just as the implication of the look in her eyes started to sink in, the Latin vixen leaned over so that they were face-to-face, bracing herself on her arms as she looked into his eyes for a brief moment. Then she leaned forward, and time came to an abrupt halt as her lips found his.

* * *

Naturally, she had meant it to be quick—a fleeting moment of affection to satisfy that instinctive, primal side of herself. After that, she had reasoned, she could break the kiss and walk away—she'd just push the incident out of her mind and not give it another thought until Sly Cooper was behind bars, and she could work towards making him her partner. It was as easy as that. 

One little problem, though—the sensation of having her lips pressing against the master thief's was so electric, so delightfully intoxicating, that the vixen found it difficult to pull herself away—she started to place her gloved hands firmly on his chest for the push that would separate them, but simply couldn't bring herself to follow through.

And it sure didn't help matters when Sly started _returning_ the kiss, causing the euphoric feelings coursing through her to spike in intensity as his lips pressed back against hers—gently at first, but slowly pressing harder; not forcing the kiss, but rather providing a firm pressure that only served to deepen the passion she already felt. The master thief's hands found their way to Carmelita's shoulders and began caressing them gently, causing a pleasant shiver to ripple down her spine as his fingers sifted through her sunset-orange fur and massaged the firm muscles beneath. One of those hands gently trailed away from her shoulders and slid up her neck, tickling the sensitive flesh and fur there as it made its way to her face, cupping her cheek with a teasing lightness as he returned the kiss.

The cop part of her was screaming at her to break contact, of course. _This is wrong, **wrong**!_ that inner voice protested. _This is **still** a criminal you're kissing—**the** criminal who's been the one blemish on your record for **years**, now!_

And yet, as sinful as it was, it felt so good—so _right_. The sensation of their lips locked together was simply unbelievable; the kiss that Sly had given her back at the Krack-Karov Volcano was _nothing_ compared to this.

There was so much that was better this time—the moonlit beachside was a far more romantic setting than the molten crater of the Krack-Karov Volcano; the close proximity of their bodies and his hands caressing her shoulders and face provided a level of tender intimacy between the two of them that had been lacking in his previous kiss; and the fact that she was participating in the deed—had been, in fact, the _instigator_ of it, though she hadn't initially meant it to last this long—only served to heighten the sensations that coursed through her body like chain lightning.

But most importantly of all, Carmelita knew that Sly had no ulterior motive this time—he was kissing her because he wanted to. Because he _loved_ her.

With that realization, the iron wall around her heart finally collapsed completely, allowing the feelings that she had tried to suppress for so long to blossom into a sweet, passionate fire. She'd kept her feelings in check for so long, fearing that Sly was just toying with her heart, that she didn't realize just how potent they were. As it was, part of her was still saying that what she was doing now wasn't right.

And, despite herself, Carmelita realized that for the first time, she didn't just couldn't bring herself to care—if only for now, she'd drop all barriers and just enjoy this one moment. Feeling a sense of liberation, the vixen shivered and let out a soft moan of delight as she leaned forward, letting her arms wrap around Sly's neck as she pulled him even closer, her lips pressing against his with mounting passion even as the master thief returned the favor.

The kiss might have lasted a few seconds, or minutes. Or maybe a couple of hours. Heck, maybe even a _day_ or two. Carmelita—and for that matter, Sly—wasn't really sure, and it seemed that neither was willing to stop any time soon.

But, of course, nothing lasts forever, either…

"Sly! Sly! Where are you?"

"Come on, buddy, yell if you can hear us!"

The familiar voices, fairly distant as they were, broke through the fog of pleasure that had settled over Sly and Carmelita and shattered the mood as thoroughly as though they had been walked in on. From the sounds of it, Bentley and Murray, while still somewhere in the jungle that served as the backdrop for the beach, were headed towards the thief and the cop—and, if the proximity of their voices were any indication, they'd probably show up in a matter of minutes.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious of what she was doing now that there was the possibility of being caught, Carmelita braced her hands on Sly's shoulders and pushed away, panting softly as she looked at him, trying to ignore the potent heat in her cheeks and the way her heart bounced against her ribs as she set a no-nonsense policewoman's expression on her face. However, the sight of Sly looking back at her, just as breathless as she was, with an expression that could only be mirroring hers in enjoyment, made it hard for her to slip back into her role as an officer of Interpol.

"This doesn't change anything, Cooper," Carmelita said firmly. Then she paused, and her expression softened. "Well…not _much_, anyway."

Sly nodded, but the charming smile had returned to his face. When he replied, it was in a tone that suggested he had caught the hidden meaning in her voice and words. "I know,"

The Latin vixen looked at him. "I'm still going to chase after you, you know."

"I know."

"I won't hold back."

"I know."

For a moment, Carmelita didn't say anything else. Instead, she wordlessly reached for her jacket, taking care to avoid knocking Sly's head back against the rock wall as she pulled her coat out from behind him—perhaps unconsciously, her hand brushed his cheek as her hand came back—and slipped it back on over her shoulders. Still silent as she rose to her feet, the Latin vixen turned on her heel and started to walk away; leaving Sly nestled against the rock where she had let him rest.

After taking a couple of steps, however, she looked back over her shoulder, her amber-brown eyes still showing that potent mix of emotions as they sought out the deep brown pools belonging to the master thief. "I'll be leading a major investigation into what took place here." she said in a firm voice that carried only the faintest hint of a tremor. "If I were you, Ringtail, I'd lay low for a while—go into hiding in some dark sewer, or wherever it is you thieves go when the heat gets turned up."

Then she paused, and her expression softened. "Oh, and one more thing…I'll be waiting for you when you come back," she added softly. "So you'd better not get soft if you know what's good for you."

Sly nodded, that small, flattering smile still there. "I know."

Carmelita stood there for a moment longer, looking at the master thief who had risked everything for her sake—the ring-tailed rogue who loved her. Then, with a small sigh, the vixen turned on her heel and walked away, steadily leaving the raccoon behind with each step. She kept her gaze focused on the beach ahead of her, even as she heard the sound of bushes parting and excited voices behind her. She paid it no mind, intent on reaching the place where Lieutenant Gronk and his fellow mercenaries were recuperating from their fight with Dr. M's genetic abomination.

The Interpol detective knew that Sly Cooper had slipped through her fingers again—that she had _allowed_ it to happen. And yet, just like when the master thief had gotten away at the end of the Klaww Gang incident, she really didn't mind that much.

_This is how it should be_, Carmelita Fox thought to herself with a small smile.

_See you again soon, Ringtail…__

* * *

****__To be continued..._

P.S. Wonder what Carmelita was saying a few times in the chapter? Well, here's the translation—my sincere thanks to the translation site I went to in order to get these.

_Truco_: Stunt.

_Bruja_: Witch.

_Reparto_: Deal.

_La adulación le conseguirá en ninguna parte_: Flattery will get you nowhere.

Okay, there you have it. Hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it down. As always, comments and critique are important to me.

Until the next chapter,when the Cooper Gang is reunited, _ciao!_


	6. Chapter 6: Reunion of the Cooper Gang

That's right, dear readers—a new chapter has been added.

Ach, such a long, unnecessary wait on this one! My sincere apologies to all the devoted readers for this fic...I just wanted to ensure quality reading for the people who've been following this story since I first posted it. That, and RL has been a bit distracting.

Anyway, without further delay, we move on to the next chapter—the reunion of Sly with his fellow thieves…

* * *

**Chapter Six: Reunion of the Cooper Gang**

Sly watched Carmelita as she left, feeling a strange sense of fulfillment fill his weary body as he watched the vixen's alluring figure slip further and further away, until it had become a blurry, nondescript shape amidst the shadows of night. Moments later, even that was lost to his vision, keen as it was despite his present condition—his body was still one tremendous ache, and his bandaged wound throbbed with dull pain. And yet, emotionally, he felt totally elated—in a way, the lingering sweet warmth on his lips made it seem like Carmelita hadn't left at all…and, in a sense, she was closer to him now than ever.

And to top it all off, Sly realized, his cane lay on the sand a few feet away, right around where Carmelita had been sitting. _She must have retrieved it when she was carrying me out of the vault, _he realized as he reached for his father's heirloom. Somehow, he doubted that she had intended to give it back to him when she'd first picked it up—_Probably more for evidence than anything else,_ he mused as his fingers closed around the cane—but still, Sly wasn't complaining.

She _had_ left it for him, after all.

Allowing a small smile to grace his features, the gray-furred raccoon let himself lean back against the rock face, ignoring the hardness of the stone against his body. In the few moments he had left to himself, before the rest of his gang showed up, he was content to bask in what had transpired. Sure, this reprieve was probably a one time thing. In fact, odds were good that next time, regardless of the circumstances, the Latin vixen would haul him off to jail if she got half the chance. And yet, despite these facts, Sly couldn't find it in him to be even _slightly_ worried about what the future might hold.

Not after what had just happened.

For perhaps the first time, he and Carmelita Fox had been able to regard each other not so much as a thief and a cop, but as a male and a female. And, in their own way, they had found an equal ground—a way to make their feelings work. Not even the cold, hard sensation of the rock face against his back bothered him as he leaned back against it, settling into a half-lying position. Closing his eyes, he smiled in contentment.

Somehow, he knew, it would all work out in the end.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the leafy rustle of foliage parting very close by, and the sound of multiple feet pounding the sand as a group of people approached, hurrying towards him. Recalling what had caused Carmelita to break the kiss, Sly didn't have to open his eyes to know who it was. Turning his head in the direction of the noise, Sly chuckled softly and raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, guys," he murmured with a wry half-smile. "Glad you could make it."

Then he opened his eyes. Sure enough, it was Bentley and Murray, the genius turtle and the brawny hippo who had been perhaps his most steadfast companions in the Cooper Gang, to say nothing of his two childhood friends. Nor were they alone—the Guru perched on Murray's brawny back; Penelope had hitched a ride on the back of Bentley's wheelchair, her arms draped across her boyfriend's shoulders; and Dimitri and the Panda King brought up the rear—the former's diving suit was still soaking wet from his deep sea excursion, and a few faint wisps of smoke lingered around the muzzle of the latter's fireworks launcher.

The ever-enthusiastic Murray was the first to answer, his big eyes showing joy and relief as he bounded over to Sly. "Buddy!" the big hippo exclaimed jubilantly as he crouched beside his more athletic friend, his arms spread wide for a big hug. "You made it out okay! When we saw the vault cave in, I thought you might've…" Then his voice trailed off, his expression becoming more concerned as he saw the bandages around Sly's torso. "…Yeowch," he finished in a more subdued voice, lowering his arms. "Looks like you took a pounding."

From his perch upon Murray's back, the Guru hummed thoughtfully, the string of ancient language that followed indicating his assent with his disciple's observation.

Bentley was at Sly's side almost immediately, throwing up his hands in a display of worry and exasperation. "That's putting it _lightly!"_ he exclaimed. "I _warned_ you not to push yourself too hard after that near-death experience earlier—you're lucky you didn't end up any worse than you did!" Then the irritation faded from the turtle's face, and he was leaning forward in his chair to examine his friend's injuries with a worried look on his face. "How bad is it, Sly? Do you feel strange at all? Maybe you should take a moment to gather your thoughts…"

Sly chuckled wryly at Bentley's overactive concern. "Don't worry, Bentley, I'll live, and I don't think there's any problem upstairs, if you know what I mean." He gestured to his bandaged torso. "This was just Dr. M's way of saying goodbye after me and Carmelita took him down."

The Panda King hummed thoughtfully as he eyed Sly's battered state, his demeanor stoic and unalarmed in the face of the master thief's injuries. "Indeed," he rumbled in his deep basso voice. "It seems as though you engaged in a battle worthy of remembrance, against a foe who gave no quarter." He paused, and those impassive features showed a small smile of approval at the raccoon. "Seeing as you're here, though, I can only assume that you were able to prevail against those overwhelming odds…truly, your reputation is well-deserved."

By this time, Bentley had managed to turn his attention from his wounded friend to the set of footprints that had been left in the sand at Carmelita's departure, arching a bushy eyebrow as he examined the tracks through a magnifying glass that had extended via a mechanical arm from his gadget-ridden wheelchair. "Looks like you had some help getting out, though," he mused thoughtfully. Then the turtle wheeled back to look at Sly, an expression of great concern showing on those nerdy features. "Carmelita had you at her mercy, didn't she? How did you manage to get out of _that_ one?"

For a moment, Sly was quiet, unsure of what to say. How could he explain everything that had taken place between him and the lovely Latin vixen who was at once both his nemesis and the woman he loved? How could he possibly do such a memorable event justice? More importantly, he wondered, _should_ he divulge it all—particularly in front of everyone else? Deep down, some part of him wanted to keep the full details of what had taken place a secret—a private story between him and Carmelita alone.

Finally, after a minute or so of, the master thief chuckled softly, deciding inwardly that a summary of the incident would be enough. "Long story short, I got these injuries saving Carmelita's life," he explained as he gestured to his bandages, "And that wasn't lost on her—in the end, she decided to let me go, just this once."

The turtle just stared at him, surprise written all over his face. "Carmelita let you go? She had you completely at her mercy after all the times you gave her the slip—and we weren't able to bail you out—and she decided to let you _go?_" He blinked, and stared at Sly uncertainly. "I mean…well…we _are_ talking about the same Carmelita, aren't we?"

Sly nodded, chuckling softly at Bentley's disbelief. "That's right, Bentley—Carmelita Fox, the fourth-generation Interpol detective who's been hounding us for years, whom I've managed to give the slip at just about every turn, had me completely dead to rights after what happened—and when it was all said and done, she decided to let me go because I saved her life back in the Vault." He paused, and winked at Bentley "You see, Bentley? She's not all that bad."

Bentley just stared at him for a few seconds, his expression incredulous. Then a small smile broke out, and Sly wondered if perhaps his brilliant friend might have deduced some idea as to what might have happened between him and Carmelita/had his perceptions of the vixen shot down by Sly's comment. "Well…heh. What do you know?" the turtle said with a chuckle that was half-resigned, half amused. "I guess she isn't, after all."

Apparently, Dimitri had done some guesswork of his own. "Ahh, you smooth operator!" the iguana crowed to Sly, his ringed fingers sparkling wetly in the moonlight as he waved his hands in the air for emphasis, sending droplets of water from his recent submersions flying through the air. "You laid down with the classic Cooper charm—not as good as _my_ distinctive spice, mind, but potent stuff nonetheless—and the delicate-but-spicy Latin flower _blossomed_ before your smooth mojo! I can only guess at how the foxy lady-cop must have—!"

Before he could get any further, Penelope reached over from her vantage point on Bentley's wheelchair and clapped a hand over the iguana's mouth, silencing his monologue. "As much as I'm sure we'd all like to hear Dimitri's take on what may or may _not_ have happened," she interrupted in a sarcastic tone that suggested that she'd rather _not_ hear the lizard's overblown version of what he thought had transpired, "I've got something that you guys might find interesting."

From his vantage point on the sand, Sly propped himself up a bit on his elbows and looked at Penelope with an arched eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked. The other members of the Cooper Gang looked at her, as well, their interest equally piqued.

Apparently satisfied that she had an attentive audience, the albino mouse produced the custom-made radio device she used to control her inventions, holding them up so everyone could see it. "I've been using this to run recon all over the place," she explained. "While you guys were inside the vault, I outfitted my RC helicopter with a video camera—I figured we could use an eye in the sky."

Dimitri nodded vigorously at this. "Aye, that was some solid thinking—me and the big King were able to coordinate real smooth-like in making those freaky mutant crackerboxes of the boss monkey's _real_ unhappy!" Here he paused, flashing a wide grin "I tell you no lie, the lovely little lady has a mind that's only surpassed by—"

The Guru promptly interjected by jabbering with the mildest note of annoyance in his ancient tongue, to which Penlope nodded.

"Darn right I'm not done yet," she said firmly as she tossed a sharp glance at Dimitri. "And speaking of which, remember points One and Two? Y'know, the ones that focused mainly on you getting _over_ yourself? I'm adding another one." Here she leaned forward and planted a kiss on Bentley's cheek, causing his green complexion to acquire a rosy flush as they both looked at Dimitri. "Point Three," Penelope finished with her arms draped over her beau, "I'm spoken for!"

Dimitri held up his hands in a placating gesture and took a step back. "Sorry, sorry! I know when to rewind!" He paused, adding quickly, "The little turtle dude _is_ a lucky stiff, though."

After giving the iguana another look to make sure he didn't go any further, Penelope turned her attention tapped a video screen that surmounted the remote. "I've been using it for several things—keeping track of Dr. M's goons, taking stock of what kind of damage Dimitri and the Panda King were able to cause with their sabotage…" she paused, giving a nod to Sly. "…And, until now, trying to track _you_ down."

Then, with a small smile, she tapped a few buttons. "But I've got something else to add—a few minutes ago, I picked up something on the camera that I think you guys should see." With those words, she held the remote up so the whole group could see the display screen as it flickered to life.

The group gathered around, all curious to see what it was the RC specialist had discovered. Everyone except for Sly Cooper, who was still too weak to do more than lever himself upwards a bit to try and get a better look from his supine position. Noticing this, Murray crouched by his fallen friend, the deep red wrestler's mask failing to hide the concern written all over his broad, earnest face.

"C'mon, buddy, lean on me," he insisted as he threw a muscular arm around his friend's relatively slimmer shoulders. "I'll be your support." Wordlessly, the raccoon slipped an arm around Murray's broad back to steady himself, following his partner's advice and leaning against him so that the brawny hippo could support the brunt of his weight.

As the two of them walked over to join the group, Sly looked up at the strongman of his team, recalling how much of a help the big hippo had been in the past with his strength, driving abilities, steadfast determination…and above all else, his big heart. From there, Sly found himself thinking about Bentley, and how the turtle's brilliant mind, meticulous planning, and unshakable loyalty had made him an invaluable ally to the Cooper Gang's cause. More importantly, Sly reflected, the two of them had been his companions from childhood, and were undoubtedly his closest friends—he wouldn't give them up for anything else in the world.

"_Funny,"_ Dr. M had spat at him back in the Cooper Vault, _"Your **father** was never such a good friend!"_

As these words echoed in his head, Sly frowned inwardly. If the deranged mandrill was to be believed, his father had apparently never been enough of a friend to put his neck on the line for his partners, and apparently didn't always give them due credit for their contributions to the jobs they pulled. Not having known a great deal about what his father was like outside the family, Sly couldn't really say whether Dr. M had been justified in making these accusations, or if it had just been the mandrill's skewed perspective of reality.

Sly shook his head slightly, trying to push the doubt out of his mind. Regardless of whatever had happened between his dad and Dr. M, it wasn't the same with him. He _had_ given Bentley, Murray, and the others the credit they deserved...

…Hadn't he?

Abruptly, an excited exclamation from the others brought the raccoon back from the bizarre half-fog of self-reflection. Putting his self doubts aside for the moment, he turned his attention back to the others. "What is it, guys…?" he started to say. Then he got a good look at the video display on Penelope's remote, and his tone changed from curiosity to wonder. "Oh," he finished softly.

No need to ask any more—what he saw answered his question perfectly.

From what the screen was showing, Penelope's RC chopper was hovering nearby a pile of rubble that had once been part of the imposing mountain that had served as the Cooper Vault, its camera lens aimed at a wide fissure that had been opened in the rock—whether by seismic forces from the vault collapsing or from some stray explosion was anyone's guess. It was _what_ lay behind the crack in the rock that caught particular interest, though—through the opening, even seen from a video screen, Sly could make out the telltale glint of gold, silver, and countless jewels.

Then Penelope twisted a knob or two on her remote, and the camera zoomed in to reveal the contents of the cave in their entirety.

There were a myriad amount of coins of gold and silver, all of exotic and ancient make—Spanish doubloons, Japanese kobans, medieval bezants, ancient Roman solidi, and others. There were several suits of armor here and there of varying designs—here an obviously medieval suit of armor, there a full set of samurai gear—all well-preserved and, from the amount of precious metal and jewels inlaid into them, obviously having belonged to those of great power back in their time. There were artifacts that obviously came from a variety of exotic places—including Aztec figurines, a jade sculpture of a dragon, a finely-wrought Roman gladius with jewels built into the ivory handle, a statue of the Egyptian god Osiris, and what appeared to be a totem pole of some sort. There were rings, crowns, bracelets, and other forms of jewelry wrought from precious metals like silver and gold; all inlaid with rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, opals, and other precious gemstones.

Looking on it all through the video screen, Sly knew exactly what it was. "The Cooper fortune," he breathed quietly. "Or part of it, anyway."

"All right!" Murray cheered, pumping his free fist into the air. "That stuff's gotta be like, at least a hundred grand, or something! It's just like I said back in the Vault—it's the payday of _all_ paydays!"

The Panda King nodded thoughtfully. "A significant sum, indeed. Of course, this _does_ raise the equally significant question of _how_ we'll move the treasure from its present location to our ship."

Bentley rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression showing intense consideration. "Hmm…well, you and Murray are the strongest ones here, so you should be able to a lot of what's in there. On top of that, if I hook up my grapple-cam to one of Penelope's RC devices, we can use that to try and haul away some of the treasure." Then he looked at the Guru imploringly. "And if it comes to it, Guru, d'you think you'd be able to use your mystic powers to levitate anything that might prove too heavy to move by hand?"

The Guru nodded and gave a pleased grunt of affirmation. He _had_, after all, done something similar with a communications antenna to give Sly a path through Dr. M's fortress…

Sly cleared his throat gently as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Whatever we're going to do, we'd better do it fast," he pointed out. "Carmelita told me that she'd be leading an investigation here before too long—if we don't hurry, we might end up having company of the badge-wearing variety." Then he paused, looking around the group as he remembered something else that the vixen had told him. "Considering how significant this heist is going to be, it might be a good idea for us to lay low for a while after this—at least until the heat dies down."

The others looked to him—Bentley, in particular, had his bushy eyebrows arched in interest. "You sound like you've got something in mind," the turtle observed.

Sly nodded. "Funny you should mention that," he said as he looked around at the rest of the Cooper Gang with a small, wry smile, "As a matter of fact, I do…"

**To Be Continued…

* * *

**

Well, there you have it—one chapter down, and two more to go! I was planning to make this a seven-parter, but after seeing how long this chapter was, I decided to put the next scene in a chapter of its own—both because it would make this easier to read, and because I'd let this fic sit idle for long enough.

As always, my thanks goes out to all of you who've taken the time to read this—your comments and criticism are always welcome. As I've shown with my revision of chapter 4, I'm always willing to make changes if need be, so if you think a character was less-than-true to the source material, please feel free to say so.

On a final note, my thanks to online resources—without them, finding out the names of ancient and valuable coins (with the exception of doubloons; everyone knows what those are, right?) would have been considerably harder.

Until the next chapter, _adios!_


	7. Chapter 7:A Hidden Meaning in the Title

Okay, first and foremost, I want to apologize for how long this chapter took to be posted. There are a few reasons I can offer for this tardiness…

**1)** Above all else, I wanted the quality of my work to remain at the same level that attracted so many readers in the first place—better to take one's time writing a stellar chapter than to hammer out an undignified piece of junk, right?

**2)** Real-life complications have further slowed down the production of this chapter. I speak of college courses, my job, and whatnot. Such things cannot be avoided, I'm afraid.

**3)** Writer's block—sometimes, I just couldn't think of the right dialogue to fit the situations I created (sometimes, I didn't even get as far as the situations!)and I had to back off for a bit to get my creative juices flowing again. Above all else, I would attribute the tardiness of this chapter to the writer's block, which I spent no mean amount of time chopping my way through.

But, despite the setbacks, here we are at last—chapter _numero siete_ (Spanish for "number seven," by the way)! In this chapter, we take a little more time apart from the SlyxCarmelita goodness to give the rest of the cast some much-deserved time in the spotlight. Considering that this is primarily a SlyxCarm fic, this might seem a little strange; I did give some debate whether to produce this chapter or jump straight to the epilogue. However, since there's some major resolutions between the members of the Cooper Gang here, I decided to put it in. Don't worry, though—there's gonna be another moment between our favorite thief and cop before this fanfic reaches its final conclusion!

And now, without further ado…on with the show!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: A Hidden Meaning in the Title**

About two and a half hours after the drama on Kaine Island had reached its concluding chapter, events found the ship that the Cooper Gang had commandeered from Blood Bath Bay out in open water, its crew having returned and made full sail after loading the treasure they had retrieved from the cave that Penelope had discovered. In no time at all, Kaine Island had steadily become a small mass on the horizon, and the warm pre-dawn tropic air had filled the sails of the ship, aiding in its flight across the tranquil ocean waters. At present, the ship had been pulled up along side a series of coral reefs, its anchor dropped to keep it from running adrift. To the seagulls passing overhead, the vessel might have very well resembled a ghost ship, given its antique design and lack of activity.

Lack of activity _on-deck_, anyway.

Unbeknownst to those sea-birds, the anchor had been dropped purposefully, and there was much taking place at the stern of the ship, where an old-but-sturdy door with a pair of crossed swords led to the Captain's Quarters…

* * *

In the ornately-furnished chamber, the members of the Cooper Gang had gathered around an elegantly-carved table that would have served as the captain's desk…that is, if the ship had still been in the hands of its old crew, back when it was moored in Blood Bath Bay and owned by pirates. However, for the purposes of its present crew—not actual pirates, per se, but fugitives from the law nonetheless—the room had been changed from being a private room for the leader into an impromptu meeting room for the whole group—it had been decided that the gang's next course of action should be discussed someplace a little more accommodating than below decks, which was considerably crowded with the various treasures and spoils they had retrieved from Kain Island.

As such, changes had been made to make the captain's quarters suit the purpose—several chairs had been brought from below-decks and assembled around the table (including one for Sly, who had turned down the throne-like captain's chair, much to the surprise of the rest of the gang), and sea-charts had been shelved in favor of a map of the world, several sheets of paper filled with details for fake identities, and the _Thievious Racconus_ itself, which had been opened to the chapter on disguises. Although it was still quite dark out, electric-powered lanterns of Bentley's design had been set up throughout the room to provide enough light to go by. In the center of the table sat the projector Bentley used for his briefings, its lens aglow as it cast the image of a world map onto the screen that had been set up ten feet away.

At present, Sly and Bentley had taken center stage before the table, outlining a plan that they had put together for keeping out of sight for a while. That the raccoon had joined his friend in providing this briefing had seemed a bit unusual at first, given that Bentley was the one who usually handled this aspect of the job. Once the two of them got down to explaining the plan, however, it was evident that they had collaborated on it, and it required both of them to do it justice. The rest of the Cooper Gang remained seated, the light from the projector casting mysterious shadows across their faces as they listened to the course of action being outlined with varying looks of interest.

"…In any case, there's the plan in a nutshell," Sly Cooper finished as Bentley pressed a switch on a hand-held remote, and the light-induced images on the projector screen between the two of them faded to leave a blank expanse of white canvas. As Bentley hit another switch on his remote to turn the lanterns back on, the ring-tailed thief looked to the rest of the group. "If anyone's got any questions, comments, or suggestions, now's the time."

The rings on Dimitri's scaly purple fingers caught the light from the lanterns as he raised his hand for attention. "Let me see if I got this idea of yours straight-up, main man Cooper," he piped up. "The plan, it seems solid enough for the most part—all of us stay on the down-low, sneaky-like, until heat from da coppers cools down…maybe longer." He ran his palm just barely over the table's surface for emphasis, then quirked a brow. "New twist, though—you and your homey Bentley suggest we drop off the map _entirely_, live as different people till the buzz is off!" He paused, cocking his head to one side. "Are you _sure_ that'll work, bro? Disguise is good for one-time gigs, but long-term acts are like walking on greased-down tight-rope!"

Sly nodded. "True enough, but I think we've got it covered." He indicated the _Thievious Racconus_ with a nod. "Thaddeus Winslow Cooper and a couple of the other members of the Cooper Gang led double lives, and they left a lot of notes on the methods they used. With the right kind of disguises, and detailed fake I.D.s, we should be able to manage the deception as long as we stay in-character. On top of that, we'll be splitting up across the globe—it might seem suspicious if we're seen together, even in disguise." Here Sly paused, a small smile playing about his face as he looked about the group. "Besides…with the way the Cooper fortune's been divided up, if anyone wants to take a little break from thievery and fulfill any lifelong dreams they might have, well, now would be the perfect time."

Murray scratched his head thoughtfully. "You know, if we're gonna be laying low for a while, maybe I could head back to Australia with the Guru and finish my DreamTime training." Then he paused, looking a little hopeful. "After that…well...y'know, I always _wondered_ what it'd be like to try my hand at professional racing—the team van would be _perfect_ for that..."

Sly nodded at Murray with a knowing smile. "Exactly. Now would be a good time to try it out—with your driving skills, I'm sure you'd go far." Then he looked to the others. "We'll keep in touch via ThiefNet, and only when we're not in disguise—we don't want to attract any suspicion to our civilian identities. When the heat dies down for good, we'll talk about getting back together to continue where we've left off." Another pause, and he looked around. "Any more questions?"

Dimitri stroked his small goatee thoughtfully. "Now that you bring it up, there _is_ one more detail that I'm pop-quiz about—the plan for splitting the payday, the moolah, she is good—almost _too_ good!" He paused, looking at Sly with disbelief. "Are you _serious_ when you say we're _all_ getting the equal cut? With you being the big shot of this whole operation, I figured you'd be wanting a little extra bling, you know?"

Sly shook his head as he joined the rest of the gang at the table. "You'd think that," he said with a slight smile as he sat back down, "But think again. It might be _called_ the Cooper Gang, and it may be true that I'm more or less the 'leader' of this group…but even with my thieving skills, there's no way I could have gotten into that vault without the help of _everyone_ here." He paused, gesturing to each member of the gang in turn. "Bentley's brains, Murray's brawn, the Guru's mystic powers, Penelope's RC expertise, the Panda King's art of explosives, and your scuba diving, Dimitri—everyone played a vital role in the Cooper Vault job." Then he paused, placing a hand on his own chest to indicate himself. "It's only fair that everyone gets an equal share of the treasure," he declared firmly, "And I'm no exception to that rule."

For a few seconds, Dimitri just looked at Sly with an expression that clearly suggested that he'd never heard of a crazier thing in his entire life of crime. Then the iguana just shook his head and cackled. "Ay-yee, Racoonus Doodus, you _are_ serious! it's just like I say back in Italy—you _still_ a crackerbox!" Then he paused, and grinned. "But it's the smooth, _snazzy_ style that's greasy sweet!"

Sly blinked at Dimitri's unusual grasp of the English language, cocking his head to the side and quirking a nonplussed brow. "Uh, thanks…I think," he said after a moment's pause. Then he smiled slightly as he sized up what he could understand of Dimitri's comment, adding, "I'm guessing that means you approve of how we're dividing up the treasure?"

Dimitri nodded enthusiastically. "I approve up and down! It's a solid deal, man!" he declared with a thumbs-up and a toothy grin. Then he paused, and his expression became serious. "I'll hand it to you straight-up, Cooper," he admitted. "You may be crackerbox, but you're a solid, _cool_ cat-in-a-bag—very endangered for this line of work, you dig? Good jobs, big pay-off, no need to worry about back-knifing…I should've thrown in with you Cooper Gang brothers _years_ ago!" Puffing out his narrow chest, the lounge lizard slapped the table decisively for emphasis. "Let it be known that when le Cooper Gang makes its comeback, Dimitri _will_ be there!"

Bentley nodded at this, gathering up the loose papers on the captain's desk into a nice and orderly stack. "Glad to hear it, Dimitri—your underwater diving skills and your underworld connections would be a great asset to the Cooper Gang in the future." He paused, looking around at everyone with a slightly awkward expression on his face as he realized that the whole plan had been outlined. "Well...I think that just about covers everything, so unless there are any more questions, I, uh…guess the meeting's adjourned. We'll be making ready to sail in about thirty minutes, so if you've got any business to take care of before then…"

Dimitri rose from his seat, looking intrigued. "Half-hour, you say?" he asked as he sauntered over to the door. "Solid—I can use time to overhaul my sub-suit gear; make it sleeker…stronger…more _spicy!_" Reaching the door, he leaned back in the frame and looked over his shoulder the rest of the gang with an appropriately pompous smirk. "Be not surprised, fellow cats—the smooth enigma that is Dimitri is _always_ on the update!"

With this quirky statement, the ex-forger vanished out the front door, his lanky frame disappearing from sight. Silence reigned for a few moments as the rest of the Cooper Gang stared after him, words failing them as they took in both the iguana's unquenchable ego and his peculiar grasp of the English language. Then, at length, Penelope shook her head and sighed in mild annoyance. "Yeesh," she remarked dryly. "Talk about a head case."

The Panda King nodded solemnly at this. "Indeed…but Dimitri _does_ have his talents, and he comes through when he is needed. For this, I suppose his shortcomings can be forgiven." Then he paused and looked across the table at Sly, his expression becoming grim. "On that note, Sly Cooper…the bargain we made in China is complete. I have helped you break into the vault of your ancestors to repay _your_ aid in rescuing my daughter." He placed his hands on the table firmly, fixing the master thief with a gaze akin to stone. "Now, I believe that there is a matter between us that must be settled once and for all."

Immediately, several alarm bells rang simultaneously in Sly's mind as he leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his face neutral as he returned the Panda King's stare. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he said in a would-be casual tone of voice, even as he reached under the table for his cane. On either side of him, Sly noticed the others looking concerned, and for good reason. If a fight broke out here, there was no telling what kind of damage could be done…and from the looks of it, a fight was inevitable.

Given the chain of events that had transpired since the group had left China, one could have almost forgotten that the Panda King had been a member of the Fiendish Five—that he had taken _part_ in the murder of Sly's parents, and later opposed the young thief _personally _during his quest to retrieve the Thievious Racconus. While the two criminals had both put aside their personal differences for the sake of the Cooper Vault job, there was no denying that there had _some_ degree of mutual unease between them—Sly remembered the Panda King's role in the Fiendish Five, and the Panda King remembered how Sly had ruined him in the past. While they had been able to bury the past for the sake of the present, the facts were _still_ there.

Now, it seemed, the long-buried grudge was about to rear its ugly head. For a few long moments, an uneasy silence reigned, with the master of thievery and the master of explosives staring each other down. The air was thick with tension, and it seemed as though the duel might begin at any second—and with the injuries he had received from Dr. M, Sly was at a distinct disadvantage should it come to blows.

But then, gradually, the look in the Panda King's eyes slowly changed, his expression softening enough to seem less confrontational, and almost melancholy. Slowly, he seemed to deflate a little, lowering his gaze to the tabletop with a heavy sigh. Surprised by this sudden turn of events, Sly let his own stance relax as well, his hand slowly withdrawing from his cane as he looked at his old enemy with some degree of confusion. _What's going through his head?_ the raccoon wondered.

He didn't have long to wait to find out. Presently, the Panda King looked up from the table to meet Sly's gaze once more—from the humbled look on his face, it was obvious that he was swallowing his pride whole for whatever he had in mind. "I owe you for _more_ than just the rescue of my daughter," the large panda said at length. "Thirteen years ago, I was involved in the theft of your family's prized heirloom…and something more, a precious thing of untold value that can never be returned."

"My parents."

The Panda King nodded at Sly's words, a hint of genuine guilt crossing his features. "I am a father, Sly Cooper…I realize now that I can never truly atone for my part in the death of your parents." He paused. "And yet…when we confronted each other once more, when the Guru linked our minds, you were willing to put your thoughts of vengeance aside for the sake of your greater goal. You may not have completely trusted me—and I cannot blame you for that—and yet, you offered me your hand. You helped me save my daughter. And you have granted me an equal share of your prize when, in truth, you owe me nothing." Raising his hands to gaze into his open palms, the Panda King let out a heavy sigh. "In the face of such humility and generosity, despite the reasons you had to do otherwise, the thought of retribution against you for my fall in the past—a mere matter of pride—seems woefully insignificant."

Sly looked at the Panda King for a long moment, his expression distant. He thought back on everything that had taken place since they had recruited his aid in China. He thought about the revelations he'd had in his recent near-death experience. Then, finally, he gave the Panda King a slight smile. "I've had my doubts, it's true," he said, "But…you've changed. I don't know if spending more time with your daughter had an effect on you, or if you found some kind of answer in your meditations, but…you're not the same person you were thirteen years ago." Then he paused, and looked the Panda King in the eye. "And now that I think about it, the one who masterminded the death of my parents—the one who was _really_ responsible for murdering them—was Clockwerk. And he's gotten his due."

The Panda King clasped his fingers together, his features solemn. "Be that as it may, I was involved. And despite this, you have shown me a new path. For these things, I am deeply indebted to you." He rose, his flame-red garments shifting about his ponderous frame as he stood. Then, in a surprisingly humble gesture, he brought his fists together and bowed at the waist to Sly, a traditional sign of respect among martial artists. "I will return to China and use what I have learned to be a worthy father for Jing King," he said to the master thief. "However, I give you my oath—if you should ever require my services, you need only send word. Regardless of the risks, the Panda King will answer the call."

Sly looked at the Panda King for a moment, completely taken aback by this show of humility from one of his old enemies. Then, to the surprise of everyone present (including himself), and despite his injuries, the raccoon brought his own palms together and mirrored the bow, looking the Panda King in the eye as he did so. "That's more than I ever expected," he said after a moment or two. "All the same…I accept your offer." He paused, and that small smile found its way to his face. "You've become a good man, Panda King."

In retrospect, Sly Cooper would always be glad that he had said that. While the Panda King's countenance remained as impassive and solemn as ever at those words, the eyes of the explosives specialist became filled with so much emotion that it was clear the words had meant something to him—in fact, the ring-tail thief realized with some surprise, the normally stony Panda King looked as though he might actually have a _tear_ in his eye.

It was as if, by saying what he had, Sly had taken a weight off his old enemy's shoulders and given him a sense of forgiveness that the panda hadn't expected—especially not from the one from whom he had helped take so much.

Abruptly, however, the fireworks master shook his head slightly and spoke, as if to compose himself. "I…will be outside if anyone needs me," he said as he turned to the door—while his expression had resumed its stony countenance, the halting and emotional note in his normally firm and unrelenting voice betrayed how moved he really was. "I must take a moment to gather my thoughts." He paused just as he reached the door, looking over one broad shoulder at Sly. "And incidentally, Cooper..." He inclined his head respectfully. "You've become a truly admirable thief. You do your ancestors proud."

With those words, the former member of the Fiendish Five was gone, his hulking figure squeezing through the door with surprising agility as he left. Once again, no one could find the words to say as they watched him through the door as he headed for the bow of the ship and sank into a zazen meditation stance, his solemn features seeming somehow at peace. Then the group looked from the distant figure to each other, still surprised by the unexpected show of humility from the Panda King and the oath that he had made.

The silence was finally broken when Murray slumped back in his seat a little, a look of wonder on his face. "Wow," the big hippo said in a subdued tone of voice that spoke for almost everyone present. "Talk about a major turn-around."

The Guru nodded and commented thoughtfully in his native tongue, pointing out how the Panda King's spiritual wandering may have been a major influence on his behavior, helping to cleanse the former villain's troubled mind and opening his eyes to the light. Then he pointed to Murray with his walking stick, adding something else to his statement.

Murray's chest swelled out, and his broad face showed a bashful smile. "Yeah, I guess I _do_ make a pretty good example," the big hippo said. "I mean, coming to you and training in the path of the DreamTime was just what I needed after that whole Klaww Gang thing. If I hadn't, who _knows_ how I woulda ended up?" After a moment's pause, he bowed his head sincerely. "I owe you big-time, Master…a thousand thanks."

The Guru nodded and accepted the praise graciously, his expression becoming thoughtful as he pondered something. Looking up at his disciple from across the table, the Guru suddenly rattled off a string of Diksha that had a questioning tone to it, stroking his dark purple beard as he eyed Murray imploringly.

The self-proclaimed _luchador_ blanched at the remark, looking this way and that as he fumbled for words. "Um…well…that is…" he stammered. Finally, unable to think of any way to let his master off easy, he hung his head. "You're right," he admitted sheepishly. "If word came from my pals that they needed my help again while I was finishing my training, I'd probably break it off right away to go and help them." He looked toward his mentor beseechingly. "It's no offense to you, Master—really! It's just that, well…" He sighed, and went on. "My pals mean just as much to me…all the stuff that's happened since I wound up in Venice taught me that."

The Guru didn't say anything, but kept holding eye contact with Murray.

The big hippo sighed and bowed his head again, obviously worried about upsetting the DreamTime master. "I'm sorry, Master," he apologized, "But Sly, Bentley, and I have been buddies since the orphanage, and I just can't abandon them when they need me…not again."

There was an uneasy pause for a few seconds, as Murray and the other members of the Cooper Gang looked at the Guru nervously, all wondering how he'd react to this news. The ancient koala hummed thoughtfully at this, drummed his fingers across the table once, and stroked his dark purple beard in contemplation. Then a broad smile crossed his face as he nodded and spoke, his response carrying a strong note of approval as he patted his own chest to indicate himself.

Having expected a displeased reaction from his teacher, Murray blinked in surprise at the koala. "You too, Master?" he asked in awe. "Wow…I mean, it's great to hear that and all, but…" He paused, looking a little uncomfortable. "I mean…you know that we're thieves, right? Y'know, guys that do stuff that's against the law?"

The Guru chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, making a philosophical comment about the difference between the laws of society and the more fundamental nature of right and wrong. While his native tongue was a little hard to follow, it was clear that regardless of what society might think, he thought that the Cooper Gang were, at heart, good people. With that statement, he rose from his seat and hopped down to the floor. He looked up to Murray and added something else, gesturing out the door with his walking stick as he did so.

The big hippo blinked for a second or two, obviously not following. "Huh? Our nightly ritual…?" Then he suddenly smacked his fist into his open palm, a look of realization on his broad features. "Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed. "I guess I forgot about it in all the confusion! Sure thing, Master—I'll be out in a few minutes!"

The Guru chuckled and made a wry comment in Diksha, then turned and made his way out of the cabin. As he closed the door behind him, Sly and the others looked to Murray curiously. "What'd he mean by that?" Sly asked. "Is this ritual he mentioned part of your DreamTime training?"

The hippo nodded. "Sort of. See, according to the Guru, at the end of the day, your head gets full with all sorts of stuff, and it can mess with the flow between mind and spirit…or something like that." He paused, adopting a tone that would have been almost mystical if it hadn't been so hopelessly—albeit unintentionally—over-the-top. "Anyway, by joining my Master in meditation under the tranquility of deep starlight, I can wash my soul clean for the next day—like a shower at the end of gym class!"

Penelope stifled a giggle at the end remark as she pushed her chair back and stood. "Talk about a colorful crew—a _luchador_ with mystic training, his Disksha-fluent mentor, a martial artist who carries a license to blow things up, a deep-sea diver and informant with an ego the size of the Titanic…" She paused, looking to Sly and Bentley. "…And, of course, the master thief and the brainiac. It's a diverse bunch, but that's probably what makes you guys the best!"

Bentley arched a brow and returned her smile warmly. "Glad we lived up to your standards, AirHeartBabe." He paused, smiling at the amused chuckle this got from her before he went on. "Even so, we couldn't have gotten this far without you—your mechanical expertise made all the difference when we were pulling off the big jobs." He punctuated the statement by taking off his helmet in a grand sweeping motion and inclining his head to Penelope with the demeanor of a classic gentleman tipping his hat to a lady. "It's an aptitude that's only matched by your charm, Penelope—I would be lying if I said you hadn't had me hooked from minute one."

Penelope's ears went red at the compliment, and she held a hand to her cheek in a theatrically coy gesture as she fluttered her eyelashes. "You're too kind, Spexguy," she giggled softly. Then she paused, her expression becoming a little more businesslike as she looked around at the remaining members of the Cooper Gang. "You know, I'd heard all sorts of rumors about the Cooper Gang before you guys contacted me, but I still wasn't sure what to expect when I signed up." Then she smiled. "All in all, though, you guys turned out to be an okay bunch—friendly, loyal to each other, trustworthy…and did I mention that you guys are pretty skilled? Definitely rare for a band of thieves."

Here she paused, looking a little shy as she drew circles on the table with her index finger. "In fact, since it looks like everyone's going to be coming back after the heat dies down, I'll be staying, too—I'm interested in seeing what you guys'lll do next…" She paused, looking up hopefully. "…If you don't mind having me along, that is."

Sly shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sure Bentley wouldn't mind," he said with a friendly wink to his bespectacled friend, who grinned and winked back. "And besides, it's like he said—you've got a knack for RC work, piloting…heck, even a little hand-to-hand expertise. In any case, you're a welcome addition to the Cooper Gang, Penelope…it's always good to have another gifted expert on the team."

The gearhead in question beamed proudly. "Glad to hear it! On that note, I'd better get below deck and make sure the boiler engine we added is running smoothly—we might need more than the wind when we set sail." With that, she spun on her heel and strolled for the open door. She stopped in the doorway, as if struck by a sudden thought, and then looked over her shoulder at Bentley. "Of course, once I get finished, I'll have some free time on my hands," she added in a sultry tone, running both hands through the blond hair that flowed from beneath her bandana. "And…the night's perfect for stargazing with the right guy…"

Bentley's chuckled sheepishly and flushed, his normal analytical composure shaken by his newfound girlfriend's unusually suggestive demeanor. "I'll keep that in mind, Penelope," he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find a suitable reply. "Erm…that is…fortunately, I should have some spare time on my hands too, once I take care of some last-minute preparations of my own, so, ah…I'll be more than willing to help you look for Orion's Belt once I'm finished."

Penelope gave him a smile and a wink, then disappeared through the open door. Now it was just Sly, Bentley, and Murray—the original three of the generation's Cooper Gang. For a long moment, the trio looked at each other, and silence filled the room as the enormity of what they had accomplished sunk in—the magnitude of the heist, the events that had led up to this moment, and the personal discoveries that each of them had made.

And none more so than Sly Cooper. As he sat there, glancing between his two friends from his childhood years, the raccoon found himself thinking back to the realizations he'd had during the endgame—his near-death experience, and his understanding of just how much Carmelita meant to him. Most of all, though, Sly found himself reflecting on the doubt that had surfaced in his mind while Murray was helping him up—the possibility that Dr. M's accusations against his father might have some weight to them…and that, perhaps, he himself hadn't given Bentley and Murray the credit they deserved.

He was _sure_ that wasn't the case. And yet…

"Guys?" he asked quietly, knowing that his friends were most likely engrossed in their own ruminations, waiting until they had both looked to him before continuing. "I just wanted to say…thanks. For everything."

Murray and Bentley both blinked at the statement—no wonder, considering that, for them, it had come from practically out of the blue. All the same, Murray cracked a broad grin and rubbed the back of his head bashfully, having made his own guess about what Sly meant. "Aw, think nothing of it, little buddy—for the sake of his childhood chums, I…that is, the _Murray_…would take on the Cooper Vault _and_ Dr. M's whole army again in a heartbeat!"

Sly shook his head. "There's more to it, Murray. A lot more." He paused, looking between Murray and Bentley. "We've been together since we first met at the orphanage," he said to them. "A lot's happened to us since then—we've gone through a lot of changes, pulled off some pretty big jobs, and taken the worst that fate could throw at us." Another pause, and then he added, "But through it all, one thing's always been the same—when it came down to it, you two were always there for me, through thick and through thin. In fact, I probably wouldn't have come this far without your help."

Then he looked down at the table, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he steepled his fingers together in thought. "I don't know if I've ever really mentioned what that meant to me," the master thief added quietly. "How much help you two have been, or how much I've appreciated your company…not just as partners, but as my two best friends." Then he looked back up at Bentley and Murray, his tone sincere. "In case I haven't, well…I just wanted you guys to know that you mean a lot to me, and that as far as I'm concerned…we're _equals_ in all of this. All for one, and one for all."

There was a surprised silence from his two friends—clearly, neither of them had quite expected him to say this, or at least not in such exquisite detail. Then Bentley nodded, his expression knowing as he looked at Sly. "I take it Dr. M accused you of taking all the credit for our work when you two fought, huh?"

Sly blinked. "Pretty much. How did you…?"

"He said something to that effect when Murray and I faced him," Bentley answered, clasping his hands in his lap as his expression went thoughtful. "He tried to convince me to join him, you know—claiming that he understood my frustration, and that you were trying to keep me in line so that you could have all the glory." Then he looked up, shaking his head firmly. "But Dr. M was wrong. We couldn't have made it this far by my brainpower alone—this was something we accomplished _together_, with our combined skills. _That's_ the secret behind the Cooper Gang's success."

Then the turtle smiled, holding out his hand across the table to Sly. "But more importantly, we've made it this far because we're _more_ than just a skilled band of thieves—we're _friends_, who stick with each other through the good times and the bad...just like you said."

For a moment, Sly just looked at his friend's outstretched hand, feeling a warm surge of emotions engulf his heart as the last of his self-doubts was finally chased away by the gesture. He wasn't able to find the words to describe how much it meant to him—to know that the bond of friendship that existed between them hadn't been wishful thinking on his part. Finally, the raccoon just smiled and reached out to clasp Bentley's hand with his own. "You got it, Bentley," he said softly. "All for one."

Bentley returned the smile as they shook hands. "And one for all."

Then Murray reached across the table and brought his hands over theirs, his strong palms securing them together in what could only be a symbolic gesture. The big hippo didn't say anything as he looked between his friends; nor did he have to—the hopeful, yet intense look in his eyes spoke volumes. Nor was there any need for Sly or Bentley to respond. Somehow, the three friends just _knew_, in a way that surpassed verbal contemplation, that if there had been any tension between them, it had just been laid to rest once and for all.

Finally, the rest of the world began to dawn back on them, and Murray rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, uh…I'd better get moving now," he admitted. "No sense in keeping the Guru waiting, y'know."

Bentley nodded as he rolled his wheelchair away from the table, likewise humbled by the profound moment that had just taken place. "I've got to get below-decks too," he agreed. "Penelope might like some help getting the ship ready to make sail."

Sly nodded as well. "Good thinking—I'll check the sails and make sure everything topside is ready to go. We're gonna need every edge we can get to elude Interpol's prying eyes and make this getaway work." With the knowing, clever grin that was characteristic for him, the raccoon put his arms about his friend's shoulders as the three of them headed for the door.

"Come on guys," he urged. "Let's go steal that horizon."

**To Be Continued…

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At LAST!!! After who-knows-how-many days, I FINALLY got this chapter written out to my satisfaction! I leave it to you, my dear readers, to read and review as you see fit. Sorry it took so long (For those who've played Sly 3, there were some references to the in-game text and events. Can you find them?)

Ah…seven chapters down. The battle in the Inner Sanctum has concluded, the long-standing romantic tension between Sly and Carmelita has been addressed, and the bonds between the Cooper Gang have been refined. Now all that remains is to wrap things up with a tidy conclusion! Stay tuned, fans—this drama's got one more act in the works! Till then, keep the faith!

And in case you were wondering, yes, the comment that ended this chapter _was_ modified off of Jack Sparrow's line at the end of the first _Pirates of the Caribbean movie._ Just thought I'd give credit where it was due. Since the Cooper Gang's on a "commandeered" pirate ship and just got back from their big victory, I felt that the quote fit the situation.


	8. Chapter 8: Epilogue

Well, everyone, here we are—the end of the road. The other side of the bottom of the mountain. Whatever you want to call it. This is, simply put, the end of Sly Cooper: On Equal Ground.

I want to express my personal thanks to those who have read this fanfic—both those who followed it from the beginning, and those who have just recently discovered it. I know I've been a little long in posting new chapters sometimes, but circumstances have prevented me from doing so sooner. More importantly, I wanted to make sure that each chapter was worth reading, as opposed to mere filler between one good scene and the next. Thanks so much for your patience and feedback, everybody—I couldn't have done it without your help and encouragement.

In closing, I'd like to thank Sucker Punch Productions for making such an awesome video game series. If any member of the Sucker Punch team should happen to read this, I hope they can see how much I enjoyed the fruits of their labors—a trilogy of quality games that are worth the time of any fan of platform games, furry games, or both. Here's hoping more Sly Cooper games (of matching quality, of course) follow.

And now, without any further ado…the finale!

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**Chapter 8: Epilogue**

Carmelita let out a soft sigh as she lowered the slender wine glass from her ruby-hued lips, black-gloved fingers setting it down lightly on the immaculate white tablecloth. The wine was quite good—a white Sauterne, the dessert wine that had helped make Bordeaux's reputation—and proved to be just the thing to accompany her dinner. All the same, there would never be anything that could quite top the unique flavor of Palo Cortado, that rare breed of wine from Spain. She had a bottle of it at home, but she was saving that for a _truly_ special occasion—the day when she finally brought in the most elusive criminal she'd ever chased.

Not that Sly had shown himself anytime recently, that is. As if he'd taken her parting advice to heart, that sneaky raccoon had vanished along with the rest of his gang following the Kaine Island Incident—despite a detailed investigation, little to no information had been found on the whereabouts of Sly or his accomplices, and so far, all her attempts to turn up any trace of him had been unsuccessful.

The fact that she had been re-assigned to other cases wasn't much help—despite her protests, Chief Barkley had taken her off the Cooper case until a fresh lead turned up, insisting that they needed her talents in tracking some of the other criminals on Interpol's wanted list. Granted, it hadn't been the first time—after all, Carmelita had been temporarily re-assigned to track down a notorious Mexican mercenary shortly before the Kaine Island Incident—but it was still absolutely _frustrating!_ Couldn't they see that just because the Cooper Gang hadn't shown themselves in a while, that didn't mean they wouldn't be back? Didn't they realize how elusive Sly Cooper was, or what sort of thievery he was capable of?

Wasn't it clear that only _she_ could catch him??

Still, all things considered, Carmelita had to admit that it wasn't _all_ bad. After all, she'd been able to help put away some high-caliber criminals (including the head of a snuff film ring and a rather sadistic serial killer), and the successful arrests had been a great help in defending her against skeptics on the force who'd doubted her abilities—and even worse, her _integrity_—based on her repeated failures to bring in a certain ring-tailed master thief. Those doubts had been silenced, however, and then some—not only was she being praised for her detective work, but there was even talk about making her part of a new branch of Interpol known as the Indigo Unit, which would supposedly bring the organization's best and brightest together into a single, highly-trained unit.

This, on top of the latest of her cases successfully closed, was more than enough reason to celebrate. At least, that's what Chief Barkley had said when he gave her the evening off. Though she had been reluctant at first, since it wasn't exactly like crime was going to go take five while she was out having dinner somewhere—and never mind the _paperwork_ she was still working on—her old mentor had insisted.

"Even the best of us need to take some time to relax now and then, kid," Barkley had told her at last, gesturing to her with his cigar in a decisive manner. "Go ahead and take the night off—your case files aren't going anywhere." And that was the end of the discussion.

Which brought her to here and now—sitting at a table near the rooftop balcony of the Le Soirée Éternelle Café, a restaurant well-known for its ritzy décor, its talented orchestra and dance floor, and its availability to the night crowd. And, admittedly, Carmelita found herself enjoying the chance to treat herself, for once—in the life of one of Interpol's brightest detectives, such chances were woefully few. The food had been excellent, the wine was of fine quality…and the view of Paris' nightlife alone had been worth the trip; the balcony offered a scenic display of the city, and the night sky that kept its omnipresent vigil—the dusky deep indigo of the sky, bedecked with the soft glow of the numerous stars that blanketed the heavens and the ethereal radiance that the moon gave off from its half-hidden perch behind some clouds.

It was a beautiful evening…even if she was alone.

The figure-hugging, backless black evening gown, the past-elbow-length gloves, and the glossy high-heels were a given, of course—the Le Soirée Éternelle Café was well-known for its formal dress code. However, despite the fact that she had taken such steps towards her appearance—even going so far as to undo her silky azure hair from its usual braided ponytail so that it cascaded down her bare back—Carmelita hadn't really planned on having a date, despite the fact that more than one of the guys on the force would have jumped at the chance to take her out.

The social restraints of her job aside, most of the men she knew were only passing acquaintances, and they were pretty much after her looks and nothing else. Hardly the type of guy Carmelita was looking for, even for a casual night on the town. And those who weren't typical drooling males were often rather hopeless, like Detective Winthorpe—hopefully, that scrawny ferret would eventually figure out that she had no interest in him, and give up his woefully inadequate and cheesy attempts at romance.

Of all the guys she'd met, not one of them had ever come so close to the blend of charm and appearance that _he_ possessed…that ring-tailed rascal who, on an island more than half a year ago, had stolen something from her—something more significant than anything of monetary value could ever be…

Abruptly, the sound of footsteps brought Carmelita back to reality, and she saw her waiter—a pelican with a rather pronounced accent and a bright scarlet bowtie beneath the white dress shirt and black suit jacket—approaching the table, wings folded neatly behind his back. As the bird came to a halt next to the table, Carmelita reached into her purse for her wallet…only for the waiter to stay the action with a dismissive wave.

"Zere eez no need, mademoiselle Fox," the pelican said in a slightly nasal tone as he began to gather the dishes and glass from the table, supporting them with surprising dexterity on one wing. "Ze dinner haz already been paid for. You zee?" And with that, he produced the check—already signed, in elegant cursive, with what looked like indigo ink.

Carmelita stared at the waiter in surprise. "What? But who…?"

"You may azk 'eem yourself, mademoiselle—'ee'z zeeting right over zere." And with that, the waiter bustled off with the tray, gesturing with his free wing to indicate the figure who was sitting alone at a nearby table, seemingly engrossed in the half-full goblet of wine that he swirled gently in one paw. He cut a dapper figure in his double-breasted crimson tuxedo jacket and black silk shirt, with small rectangular glasses, a canary-yellow necktie, and a white rose in his lapel serving as accessories. He also wore faux-fur pants, a fashion employed by some—and indeed, it was a look that went rather well with him, given his toned, athletic figure, sleek fur…

…and that _striped raccoon tail??_

Carmelita almost jumped out of her seat, her hand flying to the Shock Pistol in her purse. At the last minute, however, the vixen restrained herself—species aside, this raccoon wasn't Sly Cooper. Where the master thief's fur and hair were both a dusky smoke-gray, and his eyes rich brown, this newcomer had tan-brown fur and wavy dark hair, his eyes were a most bewitching shade of sapphire…and he certainly wasn't wearing a mask, let alone carrying anything _remotely_ like a cane.

_Easy, girl. _Carmelita chastised herself._ There are __**lots**__ of raccoons out there…not just Sly Cooper. _Nevertheless, she was curious—who _was_ this handsome stranger, exactly? Just a party-goer with a roving eye? Or something more?

Intent on finding out, the vixen rose from the table with practiced grace, striding across the imported velvet carpet as she crossed over to the raccoon's table. Clearing her throat to get his attention, Carmelita held out the signed check with an arched brow, waving it under his nose. "I suppose I should thank you, mister…?"

Clearly, he'd been waiting for her—the way he looked up before the words had left her mouth and the knowing sparkle in his eyes were proof of that as he extended his paw to her, holding out a business card. "Enrico Lancroft III, professional freelance photographer, at your service." His voice was as smooth and pleasant as his appearance, and carried a faint trace of an English accent as he flashed a rather charming smile. "And you're quite welcome."

Carmelita rested one hand on her curvy hip and cocked her head to one side, keeping her voice cool as she sized him up. Definitely handsome and witty, this one…but the Inspector wasn't one to be easily wooed—especially after the events that had taken place on a certain beach in the Pacific. "Fair enough," she mused aloud, her tone questioning as she addressed Enrico. "So tell me, what would prompt you to buy dinner for a girl who you barely know?"

Enrico chuckled softly. "Because you remind me of someone I used to know," he replied. "Someone who was…rather special to me. She had grace that was matched only by her beauty, and a fiery, passionate spirit that made her all the more endearing." He paused, closing his eyes as if recalling the sweetest memory of his life. "Ours was a meeting of chance, but somehow, over the years, she and I kept running into each other in the course of our respective jobs…even in such exotic locales as India, China, and Russia. It was like the tango—complex, beguiling…and, in its own way, undeniably enjoyable."

Carmelita's initial response was to roll her eyes mentally and sigh. This _had_ to be a pick-up line—admittedly, the raccoon was eloquent, and he had a roguish charm that worked rather nicely with him. But still, it was going to take more than just pretty words and a handsome face to win her over…

…Then the vixen stopped as some of that line leaped out to hit her. _India? China? Russia? The tango? Wait a minute…_

Seemingly oblivious to her reaction, the raccoon who had introduced himself as Enrico opened his eyes and let out a wistful sigh. "I never acted on my feelings, though…not the way I might have. She and I never became more than passing acquaintances who walked separate paths in life." Then he looked at her, his expression and voice surprisingly intense with heartfelt sincerity. "That's something that's always haunted me…If only I could go back and do things differently, I would in a heartbeat." Another pause, his cobalt eyes piercing his glasses as they sought out her amber-brown pools. "Just ten seconds…that's all I'd ask for, if it would make a difference."

_Ten seconds._

For a moment, Carmelita didn't answer the photographer, taking the time to take a closer look at him. He seemed like a stranger, but…there were familiar traits. His handsome features. The lithe build. That roguish charm. Come to think of it, if you chalked up the color of his eyes and fur to dye and contact lenses, took away his glasses and accent, and gave him a mask…

_Of course._

Then Carmelita closed her eyes and chuckled softly, amused wonder in her voice. "Come to think of it, _you_ remind me of someone that _I_ used to know," she replied with a slow smirk as she met his gaze, watching him closely for any hidden reactions. "He was handsome, charming…to say nothing of talented. I haven't seen him in a while, though."

'Enrico' tapped his elbow gently, obviously intrigued. "You don't say?"

Carmelita let her reply snap out like a whip. "He's also a _thief_—a sneaky, clever, ring-tailed rascal who's slipped between my fingers more than _any_ criminal has a right to!" The vixen placed a paw on her hip and let a note of pride enter her voice. "I happen to be a cop, you know—Inspector Carmelita Fox, one of Interpol's best and brightest. And he's the _only_ crook that I haven't been able to bust since I began working as a detective…even though I've chased him all over the globe. Every time that I think I've caught him, he slips away at the last second!"

The so-called photographer tilted his head to one side and whistled softly, obviously impressed…but what was that faint flicker of emotion in his eyes? A trick of the light? Or something else? "It sounds like he's a challenge, even for you," he mused quietly.

"He's got the devil's luck, that's all," she shot back. Then she cocked her head to the dashing raccoon and let that smirk return, playing it spicy as she continued. "But I'll find him, you know. Sooner of later, I'll catch him…and then I'm going to reform him. I'll make a cop out of him—one way or another."

'Enrico' flashed a charming smile, his azure eyes dancing with wit as he arched a brow. "I'm not so sure that I'd _mind_ being caught, were I him," he quipped.

Carmelita held his gaze for a long moment…then began to laugh softly, touching black-gloved fingertips to her temple in mock resignation. "Awfully forward, aren't you, _senior_?"

The raccoon shrugged at this and chuckled softly. "I suppose I can't deny that," he conceded. Then he paused, his sapphire eyes seeking out hers as he rose from the table. "Be that as it may, I was wondering if I might have a moment of divinity in an otherwise mundane life." And with that, he offered a paw to her, indicating the dance floor where carpet gave way to marble. The band had just started to play, inviting a few couples to leave their tables and begin dancing.

"May I have this dance?"

For a moment, Carmelita considered the so-called "stranger," his outstretched paw, and the familiar beguiling smile he offered to her. She thought about her views on life—her views of right and wrong—and the experiences that had helped to shape them. She considered all the criminals she'd busted up to this point, and the one whom she had yet to catch.

And then she recalled a special night on an island, half a year ago, when that very same thief had shown his true colors, and they had shared a moment on equal ground…a moment where their roles of thief and cop meant nothing at all.

The vixen smiled as she reached out to take his paw in her own, her fingers intertwining with his.

"You just might, Ringtail," Carmelita Fox murmured softly as the two of them walked towards the dance floor.

_**Fin**_

* * *

FINALLY! A labor of love is complete! It took me longer than expected, but here it is, at long last—On Equal Ground, an alternate Sly 3 ending, in its entirety. Comments and feedback are always welcome, and I look forward to your input. Thanks for reading, and I hope to produce another work for your reading pleasure in the future! 

Oh, and for those of you familiar with anime, you may recognize the subtle references I made to the star of Lupin III in Sly's disguise—those who saw it on Adult Swim may catch on more quickly; his appearance is slightly based on the "red-jacket season."

Let's see, am I forgetting anything? Oh, right—there's a translation I ought to make!

_Le Soirée Éternelle Café_…The Eternal Evening Café.

Toodles!


End file.
